


love in the light (heroes in the dark)

by sarcastic_fina



Series: The Multiships of One Chloe Sullivan [41]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-17
Updated: 2008-11-16
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 23,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: A collection of various drabbles and oneshots for Chloe Sullivan and Bruce Wayne.





	1. Wooing Miss Sullivan (PG)

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that these stories were originally written in **2008** and my writing style and ability has changed and grown. This story is being moved over here from Livejournal because I'm closing my LJ account soon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Perhaps, I'm unwooable."

Chloe was deep in concentration as she typed at her laptop, her brows furrowed and her lip caught between her teeth. _Click, clack, click, clack..._ She didn't hear him when he approached, too absorbed in what she was doing. But the split-second blur that passed her eyes and the soft texture against her throat told her who it was. She grinned, turning in her chair to look up at him.

"Scarves now, Mr. Wayne?" she asked cheekily. "Last week it was earrings, I believe."

He grinned. "You're a hard woman to woo, Miss. Sullivan."

She licked her lips. "Perhaps, I'm un-wooable."

His eyes darkened. "What a shame..."

She reached up, feeling the silk between her fingertips and against her neck as the floaty scarf brushed against her with each movement. It was beautiful; a pale, creamy color. She wondered why he chose such a downplayed color, when she was such a vibrant woman, fitting comfortably in cherry reds and emerald greens.

He reached out, his curved finger stroking her cheek. "Reminds me of your skin..." he murmured lowly, nearly a growl, really. She shivered at the innuendo and a miriad of thoughts, all of which would've surely made her blush, passed through her mind.

She stood up, her laptop forgotten and gently tugged the scarf from her neck before reaching out and wrapping it around his. "I like how it looks against your skin..." She smirked slowly, mischief obvious in her eyes.

His arms slid around her waist. "Why Miss Sullivan, I believe you're trying to seduce me..."

She stared up at him. "I don't try, Bruce, I succeed."

He grinned before swooping forward and kissing her deeply. She did so love his late night visits.


	2. Wooing Miss Sullivan (PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Starting now, I'm your newest and most valuable contact."

Bruce stood tall, the Kevlar of his suit so tight it was near constricting. He only knew she was approaching from the click of her heels; she should know by now that even the smallest of sounds could alert others of her presence, but then he's noticed she's quite the risk taker and doesn't seem to avoid danger like much of the rest of Metropolis. She came to a stop in front of him, a folder in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She smiled up at him if he was just another normal person, not dressed like a bat and out to parole the dark streets looking for criminals. It made him wonder what she'd seen in her life that made _him_ look normal.

"Everything you need should be in here," she assured him, handing over the folder.

Chloe Sullivan; the newest and most tenacious reporter he'd ever known in his life. She wasn't out for an exclusive on Bruce Wayne though; instead she focused on digging up every dirty detail on Metropolis' crime ring she could find and bringing it to light. He'd heard around that she was a fountain of knowledge and if he ever needed anything, she'd be the one to go to. Hitting a wall while he was searching on his own, he ended up going to her and how surprised was he that she'd done as asked.

He'd been expecting a hard-nosed, overworked looking woman that fit into the dingy surroundings of the city and instead found a beautiful woman with a genuine grin and vibrant green eyes that set him of kilter. He forced himself to remember that it was business only; she knew Batman, not Bruce and that's the way it would have to stay. Standing in front of him now, he had to reaffirm that assertion as both Batman and Bruce were having trouble not staring at her.

"You broke through the encryption?" he growled. "I only talked to you yesterday."

She smiled. "I have quick fingers."

He raised a brow and was surprised that she could tell from beneath his mask as she simply raised one back.

"For typing of course," she amended.

He looked back to the folder, opened it to be sure, checking for bugs or tracking devices and found none.

"If I wanted to find you, I could," she assured knowingly. "But I won't."

His eyes thinned. "Why?"

"Because in time, you're going to trust me. One day, I'll be your right hand woman; the sidekick you can't go anywhere without. And believe me, you'll need me. You can pretend you won't for as long as you want, but eventually..." She tapped the folder. "I have my ways and connections and anything you need I have at my disposal." Her lips quirked, eye roaming his suit. "Not that you're lacking in some of the most technologically advanced gear around."

"And why would someone like you want to be the sidekick to a vigilante?" he wondered, lips curled in suspicion.

She smiled, but he looked away. She was even prettier with that grin of hers. "Maybe I'm a masochist, but this is what I was born to do." She lifted a shoulder. "Starting now, I'm your newest and most valuable contact." She nodded before backing away. "You'll learn."

He tipped his head, staring at her searchingly.

She simply turned around, lifted a hand in farewell and then called back. "There's a few thugs on seventh, trailing behind a woman who's a little too drunk to walk straight. You might wanna look into that." She kept walking, not the least bit scared as she stepped out into the dark and unsupervised streets of Metropolis.

"Get new shoes," he yelled to her, rather smug at how she paused in her retreat for just a moment. Without waiting for a snarky reply, he disappeared into the night, off to do his job. Maybe she would become a valuable asset, he decided. He'd have to wait and see.


	3. A New Life (PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd never expected this for himself.

She fell asleep in the most unusual places. He returned from patrolling near dawn to find her passed out in a chair in his bat cave. She didn't even stir with all the noise he was making. After changing out of his suit, he walked over to find an empty bag of peanut butter cookies and a half-full glass of cranberry juice that had long ago gone warm. He easily picked her up into his arms and brought her upstairs to the manor, walking silently through the hallways until he found their bedroom. Lying her down on the bed, her pajamas already on, he stripped down to nothing and climbed in next to her.

She sighed in her sleep, naturally moving until she was pressed against him. Brushing her hair from her face, he tucked it behind her ear, his fingers lingering to stroke her cheek tenderly. Not so long ago, he never would've believed he'd have come this far. He wouldn't admit to having ideas about marriage or family or the kind of love that he would die fighting for. But here she was, lying fast asleep in his arms and he now he couldn't fathom a life that didn't have her in it.

When she arrived via Oliver Queen's request, he'd been sure that it was a huge misunderstanding. He'd been ready to turn her around and direct her right back to her League, assuring her that he didn't need her help and wasn't interested in being recruited to any Justice League. But then she stepped off Queen's private jet, dressed as if she was simply out for a walk to the corner store, half-smiled at him tiredly and greeted him with a, "Tell me you know a good coffee shop around here."

And from that moment, he was completely bowled over.

He never expected someone like Chloe Sullivan to walk into his life. She was feisty and curious, ready to take on the world with her laptop alone and fully capable of doing just that. She didn't take his arrogance at face value and instead learned the real him before he could figure out she'd gotten past his shields. She was strong, beautiful, and downright dangerous. So it was no surprise to anyone but Bruce when he fell for her. In fact, Alfred was happy for him, telling him it was about time he found someone for himself and Chloe fit the spot perfectly.

Still, years later, after somehow convincing her to date him, move in with him, and eventually even marry him, this is where his unusual life had brought him. He nuzzled his face against the back of her neck, smiling as she mumbled something about deadlines in her sleep. He kissed her shoulder, gaze falling to the six month bump on her stomach that hindered her from doing much of her usual activities. "I can almost balance my laptop on it," she told him the other day, as if finally finding something redeeming about her protruding belly.

He, on the other hand, loved it. He loved stroking it, pressing his ear against it, kissing the bare skin stretched wide. He loved knowing that inside there was their son, a child that was bound to be all kinds of trouble, given who his parents were. He was still in the stage where he even loved her mood swings because he knew what it meant; he knew that it was only because she was pregnant. He enjoyed seeing what odd concoction of food she'd come up with lately and Alfred's dismayed expression as he saw her feast on the unusual combinations.

"It's late... Or early," she mumbled, waking up to his gentle movements. She reached an arm back, ran a hand over his hair and down the side of his neck. "Go to sleep."

He nodded, eyes still intent on her stomach as he pushed her shirt up to run his fingertips along the curve.

"Tell your son to hurry up and get born," she murmured through a yawn. "I want my coffee back."

He grinned, laughing lowly before he hugged her up against his chest and sighed contently, letting his eyes fall closed. She covered his hand overtop her stomach and quickly fell back to sleep. Listening to her even breathing, he thanked whoever took pity on him and gave him this one chance at having all that he never thought he would. He wasn't going to waste it.


	4. He Loved Her Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When all was said and done...

They were married in the park; the last part of Gotham that hadn't been overrun with a modernized city landscape. There was nothing but trees and green grass, flowers and the silence of nature. They brought their friends out with no knowledge of what was happening, the media had no idea that one of their scandalous billionaires was settling down, and out of nowhere stepped the priest they'd asked to keep mum about the whole thing. It was quick, easy, and completely intimate; just how she wanted it. There were no camera flashes except for Lois' five dollar disposable, there were no fears over whether or not the wedding would be crashed or interrupted. It was just him, her, their closest friends and a vow of forever.

And when all was said and done, he wrapped his arms around her and danced them across the open grass to no music except his humming in her ear. It was enough to assure her that while their future would be bumpy - superhero lives aside, he was always in the media - Bruce would always go out of his way to make sure that they came before all else. He loved her enough to do a small wedding in a park rather than a million dollar bash, to let out his soft side in front of the entire League who saw him more as a foreboding figure than a romantic, and to say "I Do," when she knew the idea of having someone so important become a target scared the hell out of him.

But when he bent down on his knee that night a few weeks ago, she knew that he'd thought it through and was willing to push away any fears if only to have her for as long as he could. Because she wasn't scared, she wasn't going to cower against the ferocity of Gotham's hate. She was too strong for that and fully capable of standing next to his side, facing whatever came their way. So here she stood, Mrs. Chloe Ann Wayne, and she wouldn't want it any other way.

He kissed the side of her neck, sighing contently, and she knew he felt the same.


	5. Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all these years, all they'd gone through...

She was ready to tear her hair out. There was nothing worse than having her most trusted companion die on her. After all these years, all they'd gone through together, the stories they'd accomplished... Her laptop had finally given out on her. The screen went black and no matter how much she shook it or pushed the power button, it just wasn't coming back to her. What was even worse was that this particular model wasn't being made any longer. Sure, there were quicker and more modern laptops out there, for a very shiny penny, but she didn't want them. She wanted _her_ computer; the one that got her through some of the biggest stories of her life. The one that was there at four in the morning when she was running on nothing but coffee and sleep was a distant dream. She wanted the laptop that was with her during most of high school, all of college, her days in the Daily Planet, and had followed her into darker corners at the Gotham Gazette.

But now it was gone; pushed away, never to reboot. She could almost cry... _Almost_.

There was a knock at the door and she sighed. "Come in, Alfred..."

The door opened but it wasn't Alfred whose head popped in. Her brow furrowed; he never knocked. It was _his_ room too, there was no point. "You look just as depressed as you did yesterday," he commented.

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Thank you, husband of mine, you're so unbelievably sweet in this moment of disaster."

He chuckled, walking closer, arms crossed behind his back. "Disaster, Chloe? A little dramatic, don't you think?"

"You wouldn't understand..." She frowned. "Imagine if your bat suit suddenly wasn't useable anymore and you had to get another one. One that was probably better and safer, but didn't fit as right. It hadn't been there during some of your most dangerous fights or the biggest moments of your life." She shook her head. "I know it's a little much, but I _loved_ that computer."

He sighed, sitting down on the bed next to her. "I know." He nodded. "Which is why I have something for you..."

Her brow lifted and his arms came out from behind him, placing a large, thin box in her lap. She stared down at it, chewing her lip. She knew Bruce, and this was probably the best computer in the entire world, but she didn't want one of those, as thoughtful as it was. She decided not to disappoint however, he was being sincere after all, and opened the top to look at it. Her fake smile dwindled away immediately... The laptop sitting inside was _not_ of the latest models, or even something many computer users could only dream of. This was _her_ laptop. The one she'd had for _ages_. It even had her faded sticker on top, barely readable anymore. She reached out, let her fingers brush over the top and then asked, "How?"

"I had Lucius look into it... He suggested throwing it out and getting a new one but after looking it over, he was finally able to fix it. It's a little bit more updated than the last one, but it'll last another ten years or so. I considered getting you a new one but then I realized how much you-"

She cut him off with a kiss that nearly knocked him back on the bed. Her arms wrapped tight around him, hands tight around the collar of his shirt, her tongue tangling with his erotically, air a forgotten necessity. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap, hands spreading out over her back. When she finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavy, lips swollen and eyes half-lidded.

"I was expecting a tearful thank you," he said, panting.

She grinned, licking her lips before she stroked the side of his face affectionately. "I love you! This is... This is above and beyond, really!"

He lifted a shoulder. "I know how much it mattered to you."

She felt tears well up in her eyes, now she was pretty sure she _would_ cry. "I knew there was a reason I married you, Bruce Wayne!"

He smiled, chuckling deeply. "It wasn't my good looks and incredible charm?"

She tipped her head to one side. "It certainly helped."

He rubbed her back, drawing her in until her head was resting on his shoulder. "So you're happy now? No more moping around the manor?"

She played with the buttons on his shirt before undoing them one by one. "I know a way you can make me even happier..." She tipped her head and kissed his neck, nibbling his skin teasingly.

"I like the sound of that..." he growled.

She did too.


	6. Rain Check (PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first date was disaster... Three times over.

Their first date was a disaster. He was called away and she was paged by the League. They looked at each other, both sputtering excuses before they called out, "Rain check," and ran off in different directions. She didn't see him for another three weeks; working her butt off for the League and spending more time in an office somewhere in Prague rather than back in her new apartment sitting filled with boxes in Gotham City. Upon arriving, she'd frowned at Oliver. "Nice timing, Arrow."

He lifted a shoulder. "I'm sure Wayne won't give up so easy, Sidekick." He winked. "Who doesn't enjoy the chase?"

She snorted, getting down to work.

When she got back, she found Oliver was right. He'd sent her a dozen roses as an apology. Unfortunately, they were withered after having been sitting in wait for three weeks.

When she ran into him a few days later, he smiled widely. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

She smiled. "Out of town work. I just got back."

He nodded understandingly. "Care to try dinner again? Cash that rain check in?"

She smiled broadly. "I'd love to."

And because she really, really wanted to. They were interrupted _again_. Clark needed her help in Smallville and Bruce had unnamed business elsewhere. Standing outside of the restaurant, neither really wanting to end this before it even started, they stared at each other, stalling.

"We suck at this," she told him, smiling.

"Rain check, round two." He started walking backwards. "One of these days, we _will_ get through a whole meal."

She grinned. "I hope so."

She took Oliver's private jet to Smallville and spent a week helping her best friend solve a mystery just like the old days. But she was happy to get home, unpack a few more boxes and put a little hope on the idea that she might just run into Bruce again. Working at the Gazette had her busy, but when she walked in to find a coffee just how she liked it sitting on her desk, still steaming, she knew he'd sent it to her.

Life was nice enough to grant her another run in with him.

"Where are you headed to?" he asked, lifting a brow.

"Lunch," she replied, smiling up at his handsome face. He had the darkest eyes she'd ever seen and they were utterly intoxicating.

He grinned. "I'd love to join you."

She slid an arm around his. "Thai sound good to you?"

The universe was against them, however. Her phone wouldn't stop ringing and neither would his, no matter how many times they tried to ignore it. Finally, they both gave in and answered. "Is this a serious crisis?" she muttered, irritated.

"Of the strongest degree," Lois had replied.

"Okay... I'll be there by..." She spotted Clark waiting outside, looking grim and sighed. "In five minutes."

She hung up and turned back to Bruce.

"Business," he told her with a sad smile.

"Same," she replied, lifting a shoulder.

"Rain check," they both said before chuckling.

He paid for what they'd ordered but never got around to eating and while he went one way, in the direction of Wayne Enterprises, she turned toward Clark.

"Sorry," he said, lifting a shoulder. "Is that him?"

She nodded.

"He looked... nice."

She rolled her eyes. "Let's just go."

She didn't get back for another two weeks and she was starting to think moving to Gotham just made things more difficult for her. She'd hardly spent any actual time around the city and the few times she had, she kept running into the man she really just wanted to tear the clothes off of and get to know in the most intimate way. He was charming and handsome and seemed to be just as interested as she was.

She heard a knock at her door and climbed off her couch to answer it. She was dressed down in sweat pants and a t-shirt that had seen better days. When she opened the door, she found the star of her thoughts standing there. He held up a bag. "I left my cell at home, work is the farthest thing from my mind, I had dinner cooked especially for this occasion, and I would really, _really_ like to spend and evening getting to know you better."

She grinned, opening the door wider open. As it closed behind him, she went to her home phone and found her cell phone, turning them both off. There would be no more rain checks in their future; she was going to sit down and enjoy a first date with Bruce Wayne if it was the last thing she did. And hopefully, it would lead to a second date and so on. There was just something about him that appealed to him and she felt it was the same for him. She had a feeling that whatever it was between them, when it finally had its chance to start, it wasn't ever going to end.


	7. Family Vacation (PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe grinned out at the picture in front of her...

Chloe grinned out at the picture in front of her. Hidden from the hot sun beneath the overhanging umbrella and sitting comfortably on a beach towel with her book in one hand, finger slid between the pages to keep her place, she watched as her husband and sun carefully built a sand castle together. Much larger in contrast to his son, Bruce appeared entirely free of any darkness, unlike his usual self which was plagued by shadows. He knelt in the white sand, black shorts dried now from earlier when he and their son swam around in the ocean for awhile.

He used the shovel to fill the blue bucket and then turned it upside down to make yet another tower to their castle.

"We need a moat, daddy!" Christopher exclaimed, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"You're right," Bruce agreed, handing him the shovel so he could start digging in the sand.

Years ago, she couldn't imagine Bruce anywhere near a beach. It was too sunny, to free, too lighthearted. But here he was, his shoulders sunburned and his hair filled with sand, building a castle with their son.

She smiled. He looked better here, refreshed. She almost regretted that they would eventually have to return to Gotham, but she understood that it was a necessity. Just like she and Christopher couldn't survive without Bruce, Gotham couldn't go on without Batman. She was willing to share; so long as Bruce returned home each night to his family, she'd accept the darkness that infiltrated the light.

He looked up at her, smiling crookedly, and she was sure then that it was worth it. She smiled back before standing up from the towel and grabbing the sunscreen out of her beach bag. She waddled her way over, one hand on the baby bump inflating her one-piece bathing suit. She slid to her knees next to him and grinned down at Christopher as he pointed at their creation with his shovel.

"Look momma, we're making a castle!"

"It's very pretty!" she told him.

He pouted. "Castles aren't _pretty_ , they're manly!"

She rolled her eyes, but nodded agreeably before she squeezed the sunscreen into her palm and rubbed it into Bruce's shoulders as he leaned closer to her. She could feel the back of his hand absently rubbing her baby bump as his eyes watched Christopher proudly while he dug away in the sand, tossing it over his shoulder and making his moat just perfect. When he grabbed up his bucket and scurried toward the water to fill it so he could finish up his moat, she leaned against Bruce, kissing his cheek.

Vacations were few and far between but having him all to herself was something she relished in each time. She sighed, breathing in his scent, mingled with the sunscreen and the smell of the ocean. He rubbed her back slow and light, his large palm spread across her bare back soothingly. Just a few more days to themselves, she knew, but these moments made her forget all about what was waiting for them later. She was content just to forget and enjoy their family getaway. A day at the beach with her two favorite men, what more could she want?


	8. Escaping Oblivion (PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She'd been overlooked most of her life... and then he walked into it.

She'd been overlooked most of her life. She had to reach high for people to notice her, wave her hand and nearly scream, "Look at me!" Even with her best friend, she came second best. Standing by her cousin, she was always covered by her shadow. She was just the sidekick; she came in handy when needed, but otherwise, she could be picked up and discarded just so. She didn't want to blame them, they had a lot on their plates as it was, but would it kill them to look at her and express how much of an asset she was? Just once she'd rather be the beauty than the brains. The one other's envied rather than pitied. The Kara instead of the Chloe, the Lois instead of the Chloe, the Lana instead of the poor, sad Chloe. But she was Chloe and she loved who she was, it just so happened that few others felt the same.

And then she left Smallville for good; she left Metropolis in the rearview mirror and she refused to look back. She started fresh in a new city, a darker and grimmer city. She turned on her recorder, asked the ‘wrong' questions no matter how many times they told her she was getting herself in way over her head. She worked her fingers raw at her laptop, making a name for herself as a reporter that never took the bribe, never bit her tongue, never looked the other way. And she was finally really seen, all too clearly through sniper scopes and high-tech binoculars. The death threats hit an all time high. But did she cower or hide or run? Never.

This wasn't the acclaim she'd been searching for; it wasn't the attention she wanted. The League was behind her, the Daily Planet a distant dream, and now she had her Pulitzer, three in fact, and she wasn't losing her integrity to get them. She wasn't writing obits while Lois and Clark ran off for the _real_ story. She was the best investigative reporter out there and it felt good. But there was something missing; _someone_ , more specifically.

When she came home at night, there was no man there to let her know that he saw her better than any hitman or reader. He saw her for her and he loved her entirely. There was nobody to hold, nobody to cry on the shoulder of, nobody to tell her that she'd be okay, that they were proud of her. With all of her success and attention, she was still alone, still overlooked in the place she wanted filled most.

And then he walked into her life.

"How many death threats is that?" came a deep voice from in front of her.

Attention intently on her computer, she lifted a brow without looking up. "I lost count somewhere around one hundred and twelve." She shrugged. "Not everyone can be a fan."

He snorted. "That's one way to look at it."

"And the other is that I'm stirring up things that should just be left alone to further the decay of Gotham," she replied in a monotone voice as if she'd heard it a few too many times. "What's a visit to the hospital once a week compared to a better life for an entire city?"

"Are you always so altruistic?"

She smiled slightly. "Maybe you caught me on a good day."

"Your good days have lasted four years it would seem."

Her lips pursed in an amused half-smile "Longer than anyone expected, I'm sure."

"What are you working on now? A mysterious plot to take down Gotham's elite?"

She chuckled. "Actually... I'm looking for a good recipe to make myself dinner tonight. I'm fed up with take-out and I'm planning to get out of the office before midnight, for once."

"Italian is always good," he suggested.

She shook her head. "The closest I'll get to Italian is a frozen pizza."

"Then why don't you let me take you out?"

That got her attention. Her eyes turned from the computer and rose to stare at the man in front of her. _Well_ , that hadn't been anywhere near who she expected. "Bruce Wayne, in my office... Where's the gossip columnist when you want to boost sales?"

His mouth curved. "Dinner, Miss Sullivan? I'd be honored if you joined me."

She lifted a brow, leaning back in her chair. "Do you often take out strange and dangerous reporters?"

"This would be a first," he admitted, his expression amused.

There were butterflies in her stomach that she purposely told to stop moving. This was not how she'd seen her evening going. Half cooked something or other that didn't look nearly as good as the recipe assured her was on her list for dinner. She'd try watching TV or reading a book, but she'd end up back at her laptop, her trusted companion through these brutal years. But nowhere in her night, or any night to be honest, had she seen a dinner date with Bruce Wayne? Playboy billionaire with a charming grin that made her knees weak even as she sat completely at ease. And he _really_ wasn't the kind of man she should be considering; his reputation spoke volumes of just where dinner would lead and end.

But... Four years was a long time and her bed was sadly entirely too empty and cold.

"First huh?" She rose from her seat. "Who am I to disappoint?" She took her jacket, only mildly surprised when he helped her put it on, his hands brushing warmly against her neck. As she turned, catching his eyes, she lost her breath; so dark and intense and directed at her... They left the building and she didn't bother trying to banish the excited clenching of her stomach and a woozy feeling in her mind; he was worth it.

It began there, but never ended. Maybe she hadn't faded into oblivion as she'd thought. Someone still had eyes open and directed right at her and over the years, she'd know that he always saw her, just what she'd always wanted and needed and Bruce Wayne had provided it.


	9. The Day After (PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life as what it was and will be.

Chloe walked down the stairs, hand sliding along the banister, her mind wandering. She had thought that the night before was going so be something... different. Not that it wasn't incredible on its own. Bruce took her to an amazing restaurant for dinner, he danced with her despite knowing it would gain attention, he even put off the Kevlar awhile to _thoroughly_ celebrate their anniversary in their bed. But what she had been hoping for never came and she sighed to herself now, wondering if maybe it was _never_ going to happen. Yesterday had, after all, been their six year anniversary. Maybe it was time to realize that what she thought was coming just... _wasn't_.

She straightened her shoulders and continued walking, telling herself to get over it. Her life was perfect the way it was; dangerous and filled with far too many freaks looking for a thrill, but still perfect. Just as she'd come to terms with her life as it was, she came to a sudden stop on the stairs.

"Why are you wearing a tux?" she asked, staring with a furrowed brow at the far too good looking Bruce Wayne. "I didn't think we were schedule to be anywhere tonight."

He half-smiled. "We're not."

She shook her head slowly, not quite comprehending.

Stepping forward, he stopped at the base of the stairs and Chloe walked down a few more steps so she was eye-level with him.

"My father proposed to my mother on these stairs," he said quietly. "He made sure it wasn't on a special occasion so that it was about _them_ and not a celebration of anything else..."

She felt her breath catch in her throat, staring at him searchingly.

Taking her hand in his, he said, "I think he had the right idea," before bending to one knee and producing a black velvet box.

She felt her eyes fill with happy tears and laughed lightly, excitedly. _Yes!_ was already on the tip of her tongue; she could barely wait for him to get the question out. Maybe she didn't have to accept life as it was, perfect as it may be, it appeared it was about to get even better.


	10. Rule Bending (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wanted to regret it, but couldn't.

She stared at the ceiling, wanting to regret it but unable to. The ache that reverberated through her was of the completely good kind. Still, there were boundaries and rules and they'd leapt right over those and into his bed. Which, she couldn't help but notice, was incredibly comfortable. She rolled onto her stomach, inhaling the deliciously _male_ scent on the pillow. The sun peeking through the heavy curtains told her it far past morning, which didn't surprise her seeing as when they decided to hurtle over all things telling them it was a bad idea to sleep together, they thought it best to do it more than once just to prove some kind of point. Not that she was complaining; no where near it.

Waking up to find he wasn't there didn't surprise her either. He was, after all, a busy man; with two lives to live and a lot of pressure on his shoulders. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what it might've felt like to wake up in his arms. She couldn't believe she was in this place; months ago, she'd found him to be an arrogant, over-confident billionaire who wasn't willing to be a team player no matter the cost. She wanted to stuff Oliver's idea of a League recruitment down his throat and tell him to do it himself after only meeting Bruce Wayne once. But she was stubborn and she refused to back down, so she was back day after day, trying to tell him all the good things the League had accomplished and how much he could help. But he wasn't interested in the world, only Gotham. And she could understand his reasoning; the city itself was worse off then a lot of the worst parts of the world combined, but that didn't mean his skills couldn't be used for the whole.

As the months went on, the arrogance faded and she was privy to the real man behind the mask, which was dangerous, really. As this man didn't prick her temper but her interest. She told herself from day one, it would be completely business associated between them. She was there solely for the League and not to play sidekick to a brooding billionaire whose eyes, she swore, could see right into her soul. She shook off the chemistry between them, played down the attraction she constantly felt thrumming whenever they stood near each other, and pretended she didn't notice those small, _real_ smiles he sent her when they were surrounded by fake people expecting a fake Bruce. She told herself it was completely normal that he constantly tucked her hair behind her ear for her or talked to her in his Batman voice, the one that sent chills down every inch of her body. It was normal that she found both sides of him attractive for different reasons, that she'd come to meld the two together and appreciated them both in a was that wasn't in the least bit professional.

And so, when they were talking business one night, which led to wine and conversations that had nothing to with the League or the life of a billionaire, she found herself letting those walls down, staring into those eyes that drew her to him so easily. And before she could process the pros and cons, he was kissing her and she was done for. She was putty in his hands as the first touch of his lips and she encouraged him as he lifted her from the settee in his office and brought her to his bedroom. She was all for his hands stroking up and down her body, touching places that ached for his calloused fingertips and smooth mouth. She arched into his grasp and jerked her hips to meet his, wanting more of him, all of him, inside of her and outside of her and a part of her.

Clothes were stripped away and she felt more naked than she ever had, physically and emotionally, lying there in front of Bruce Wayne and Batman and the man who made her feel things and think things that she told herself couldn't be done. She'd turned her heart away from heroes long ago; they had a tendency of handling her with gloves or ignoring her entirely. But he'd opened it back up when she let her guard down and despite being the type of guy who was set against getting into a relationship -it wasn't safe, was his prerogative- here he was, kissing every bare inch of her with such tender ferocity, she nearly orgasmed right then and there.

The huge expanse of his bed came in handy as they seemed to roll back and forth, fighting for dominance, relinquishing and then gaining it back, making love until they were so exhausted, she couldn't fathom moving. She fell into a deep sleep sometime before sunrise, to the stroke of his fingers over the small of her back and the continuous and melodic _thump, thump_ of his heart. And now she was awake, trying to tell herself that the incredible ache left behind wasn't worth the consequences; trying to think of how to tell him it could never happen again, that it was never to be remembered or thought of; a distant mistake.

And then she felt the bad dip next to her and she didn't have to wonder who it was. His scent was even stronger now and she let her eyes close, breathing in that musky smell that made her toes curl beneath the sheet. He leaned across, his arm pressing into the bed next to her and then she felt his lips against her shoulder, soft and tender, arousing her with the simplest brush. He kissed along her back and up her neck, slow and sweet, and she couldn't remember why she ever wanted to stop. She rolled onto her back, smiling up at him sleepily as he half-smiled at her, lifting a brow.

"You're finally awake," he said, lowly.

She chuckled softly. "You're pretty exhausting."

His smile bloomed into a full smirk before he bent forward and caught her lips. "You weren't inactive."

She grinned, wrapping an arm around his neck and keeping him close. "We shouldn't do this." She kissed him, just a lingering peck.

He nodded agreeably. "Definitely shouldn't." His lips sought hers once more.

Her breathing picked up. "Bad idea." She nibbled his lower lip.

"Incredibly bad." He tangled his tongue with hers.

"I hate rules."

"Me too." He stripped the sheet away and laid down next to her, drawing her bare body up against him. His hand slid down her back, hooked around her thigh and dragged her leg up over his hip.

"We're not breaking them... exactly," she breathed, head falling back as he kissed down her neck. "Just bending them."

"Exactly." He nuzzled her chest with his nose and she sighed.

"Good."

"Great."

It was final then; they weren't doing anything wrong. They'd bend the rules just a little bit; enough for them to see where this might be going... She had a feeling it was somewhere worth exploring.


	11. Gone (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just a little experiment... Really... Oh, who was she kidding?

She told herself it was scientific exploration. It wasn't wrong, really; just a little experiment on her part. The last man who kissed her tasted like an ashtray; he smoked more than he breathed and while he was handsome and intriguing, kissing him felt like licking dirt. But this kiss... This tasted anything _but_ like ash. It was smoky, sure, it was hot and fiery, and it made her entire body shiver like an addict waiting for another taste. And she knew... Just like her ex couldn't drop smoking, she wouldn't be able to walk away from this kiss and not want another.

It had started out innocently enough.

"Where's the current arm candy?" she teased, lifting a brow as he stood next to her, nodding at the many people who congratulated him from afar with waves and cheerful grins, all acting as though they knew him so well. She knew different; she knew they had no understanding of this man whatsoever. They saw the arrogant billionaire that cared for little and loved excess. But the true him could care less for money or overpriced galas. To the deepest part of him, he was all about justice and saving the city he grew up in; returning it to its former glory in any way he could.

"She's around here somewhere, I'm sure," he replied. His lips twitched with amusement. "Finding someone else to show me off to, no doubt."

Chloe snorted. "Who knew you were such a hot commodity?"

He turned to her, head tipped to one side. "I've been trying to tell you for years."

She rolled her eyes. A flirtatious and absolutely charming Bruce Wayne was a regularity in her life. After moving to Gotham to set up communication between the Bat and the League, she spent more time with him than she probably needed to. From day one, she'd recognized the attraction, but she also knew the danger and highly short lifespan they'd have together. She'd dated her share of heroes and villains and she was out of that game for as long as possible. She chose to keep it casual between her and Bruce; they were friends and they'd never be more. Because she knew as soon as she let those dark eyes see through her, as soon as she let those large, calloused hands touch her skin... She was a goner.

Four years she'd been here; four years she stood side-by-side with Batman and Bruce Wayne; his friend, his liaison, his snarky and overzealous sidekick. " _I don't like that term... You're more of an equal than a sidekick_ ," he told her and she had to force down just how brilliant her grin had been, surely it would've blinded him. He had no idea how those words affected her; yet another reason to keep her distance. Hecould get to her like no one else; a look, a few words, a perfected growl and she was holding onto something to keep her knees from giving out beneath her.

"I'll have the memo re-sent to you, but just a heads up, I'm incredibly stubborn," she replied, waving off the waiter offering champagne.

"Message received." He smirked. "And ignored."

She smiled. "As usual."

He sighed, looking both amused and rather dejected. "You're never going to give into me, are you?"

"If I have my way... No." She shook her head.

He reached for her, tucking her hair behind her ear, thumb stroking her cheek tenderly. "I know you're attracted to me..." She didn't bother scoffing; neither of them would believe it. "And I've made no secret of my attraction for you..." His thumb fell lower, tracing the line of her jaw. "It's a lonely life... The one we lead... I can't imagine why you'd want to spend it without someone who could love you for everything you truly are."

"And what am I, Bruce?" she wondered, brow quirking. "A glorified secretary most days..."

"You underestimate yourself." He licked his lips. "You're the ears... The eyes... The _heart_ of the League."

She reached out, readjusting the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. "And what am I to you?" Her voice was soft, curious but rather uncertain.

His mouth turned up on one side. "You have to ask?"

She'd known for some time that his feelings were beyond just attraction. He never failed to make her feel loved, cherished, wanted and needed.

Still... "I never run out of questions."

"How best to sate your curiosity," he murmured.

Before she could say another word, he'd leaned forward and caught her lips with his. She sighed, body falling into his, nothing left in her to fight, nothing in her wanting to. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck, fingers threading in his hair. His arms wrapped around her like a blanket, shielding her from everything involving the outside world. Making her only surroundings him; her only thought, taste, touch, of him. She felt his hands splay across her back, sliding over her silk dress and up the bare skin revealed by the low hung opening of her gown.

She could stop him at any moment and she could walk away just as easily... She could forget it ever happened and return to being just a friend, a liaison, a dream just out of reach... Who was she kidding? She was absolutely and indefinitely _gone_. Bruce Wayne had stolen her sensibilities, her protests, and her fear, replacing it with that word that always niggled at the back of her mind, so close making its presence but always forced away. _Love_. How long had she loved him? She couldn't count the days, the months, the _years_. But as she drew back, she knew how long she'd love him from then on... _Forever_.

"Satisfied?" he asked, that low, raw growl coming out.

She stared up at him with half-lidded, passionate green eyes. "If I say no, will you try and prove otherwise?"

He smirked before leaning back in.

Mmm... Lying never felt so good.


	12. Cat and Mouse (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She felt like the were in the middle of a game of cat and mouse... and she wasn't sure which she was.

She knew they were trying to be secretive, but this was just weird. The whole League was meeting up, all coming from various places to catch a ride on a train that had been fully paid for by one of the members. Stating that he just wanted a worry free ride, Bruce Wayne bought out every seat on the entire train and at every stop, one or two members of the League would sneak on without being noticed and slip into the meeting room. She was the first, sitting across from him with her laptop open and her fingers already clicking away.

He was staring at her; she could feel his heated gaze washing over her like a steaming shower that left her skin raw and her breathing heavier. She wanted to ignore him, but it forcing her to lose her attention. Her fingers were hitting the wrong letters and she found some part of her wanted to be worthy of the attention he was giving her. An attractive man hadn't taken his eyes off her since she stepped inside, how could that _not_ make her feel on top of the world? She chewed her lips, brows furrowed. Even if she didn't agree on the meeting spot, she rather liked the idea that she was the first on the train. In the sole company of _him._

"You think it's over the top," he commented.

She glanced at him, forcing her eyes away before they got lost in the deep, dark caverns that played as eyes. "I feel sorry for whoever might've needed to take the train today," she replied.

He looked amused. "I'm sure they'll thank you for the inconvenience later."

She smiled wryly. "They rarely do."

He lifted a brow, lips pursing for a moment. "They have a tendency of running away for their lives, don't they?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Natural instinct, I suppose."

His mouth twitched. "One we both seem to ignore."

She leaned back in her chair. "If everyone runs, when will they stop?"

He stared at her, eyes thinned slightly. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."

She grinned. "Chloe Sullivan, Watchtower extraordinaire."

"Ahh..." He lifted his chin knowingly. "Both Queen and Impulse sing your praises."

She laughed. "In different ways, I'm sure."

He tipped his head agreeably. "Not that either were wrong."

She chuckled. "Only recently introduced and already laying on the charm, Wayne?" She shook her head. "Your reputation proceeds you."

He sat back. "Don't believe everything you read... We all play our part."

She felt like the were in the middle of a game of cat and mouse... and she wasn't sure which she was. "And yours is?"

"Complicated."

She snorted. "Aren't all of you heroes?"

He stared at her steadily. "Some more than others."

"And why, Mr. Wayne," She tipped her head questioningly, "would I be interested in getting dragged into your complicated life?"

He leaned forward, taking her hand in his, holding it delicately between his large palms, warming her skin and sending a shiver through her body. "I have a feeling you're curious beyond measure, Miss Sullivan... And I fully intend to explore every detail of your own complicated self."

She blew out a shaky breath. "Quite the challenge, Wayne. Are you sure you're up to it?"

He smirked. "We have three hours until the next stop... Ask away and I'll answer, but I get to pick you apart just as thoroughly."

"And how thorough do think I am?" she queried, lips quirking coyly.

His thumb stroked across the top of her hand. "I'm betting a lot on very and I don't plan to be disappointed."

She leaned forward, accepting his challenge. "You won't."

And the games began; who came out the winner would be a toss up.


	13. Companion (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were some things only her husband could do.

She loved his blanket. It was heavy and warm, a dark black that always reminded her of him. She could spend whole mornings just curled up in his blanket; his scent lingered, making her feel entirely wrapped up in him. She could comfort herself while he was out, roaming the Gotham streets for crime. While she couldn't always fall asleep with his arms around her she could curl up in his blanket, breathe in the heady scent that screamed _Bruce_ to her. Its warmth, its all encompassing mass, its deep color that reflected the darkness in his eyes, the way it seemed to comfort her when she was at her lowest.

But... as much as she loved the blanket and how it was always there to fill the emptiness of the large bed, it compared nothing to having him there with her. The nights he didn't have to go out or _couldn't_ leave to patrol, were the best. Some part of her was used to this; after years of living this life, never sure whether or not he'd be there with her throughout the night. She took the bad with the good though. There was no going back for her. She came here, found him, and planned never to leave. While some nights were lonely, her blanket the only companion she could rely on, the nights he was there made up for all of that. Because then she could relish in his actual arms, she could breathe in his fresh scent; expensive cologne, body wash, and something distinctly _him_. She could stare into his eyes rather than at the blanket and enjoy his warmth instead of wrapping herself in layers of fabric.

She ran a hand from the base of his neck down his back, relishing in each inch of hard flesh beneath her fingers. She pressed her face against his neck, inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering. Her leg slid between his, her body arching until her entire front was plastered to him. With all the comforts of a blanket, there were some things only her husband could do. His hands slid down her body, taking her negligee with them, until her bare upper half was touching him, his heated skin warming her, making her shiver at the sudden temperature change. His mouth spread across her shoulders and down her chest, lips smoothing over her skin in tender but passionate kisses that left her whimpering, wanting.

He leaned her back, his body sliding over hers, making her feel small, delicate. His hands found hers, fingers twining, lifting high above her head to lie against the pillow. Her knees rose, braced on either of his hips, tightening against him, drawing him closer. As he kissed from her neck down, his chest rubbed against her, the friction making her breasts flash with pleasure. She bit her lip, writhing beneath him, wanting more of that, more of him. And as he breathed her name, " _Chloe_ ," she knew, he loved these nights just as much as her; waited for the nights where he could put away the Bat suit and all that it entailed and just be Bruce... Just be her husband and have his wife all to himself.

She could feel the blanket at her feet and kicked it away. She didn't need it tonight; it'd been replaced with a much better companion.


	14. She Knew (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She didn't know then but she knew now.

She knew by the third kiss that she would one day marry him.

The first was sweet, tender and deep and she knew from that moment that he'd be a regular player in her life. That he'd cause feelings she hadn't yet experienced to their fullest. And he did, almost immediately. When they met, she was quick to diffuse any ideas that she was like of his many admirers. Just her luck that he'd be attracted to her snarky attitude. She couldn't complain really. He asked her to coffee, a total of thirteen and a half times before she said yes. The half was when he was only starting the usual question when she sighed, cutting him off and finally agreed. Coffee led to them taking a walk through the city, where they got lost in conversation, sharing stories and laughter, and before she knew it, while waiting to cross the street at the walk sign, he leaned over and kissed her. She never wrote him off again.

The second time they kissed, it was heady and passionate, so deep she could barely keep her legs from giving out on her. They'd kept it rather casual after the first sort-of date, and while she'd wanted to see where it might go, they'd both been a little hesitant on what should happen. He'd spent so long just trying to convince her and now that he had, he wasn't sure where to go with it next. But then she was at his apartment, looking through his bookshelves while he finished looking something over at his desk. She hadn't seen it coming until she was pressed up against the bookshelf, his body so tight against hers she could feel every angle and muscle of his strong form. His lips sought hers like a parched man for water and she met them just as desperately. She'd missed that feeling, that all encompassing depth that made her forget anything else even existed.

Alfred unintentionally interrupted and he was dragged away on business she wasn't privy to.

The third time they kissed, she'd been out in the city, on her way home from a late night at the Gazette. She hadn't been paying much attention and she was a block away from running into a dangerous zone of Gothic's night life. But then her arm was being pulled and she was dragged into a dark alleyway by none other than Batman. He looked angry and scared and utterly beautiful in this suit that made him appear more like an avenging angel than a rodent. It was his lips that gave him away; he ranted in a growl that made her stomach squirm and her toes curl inside her heels. She didn't hear what he said; all she cold do was stare at that familiar mouth. And it clicked, all of it making so much sense she couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't put it together before.

She kissed him; her hands cupping his face overtop his cowl and dragging him in. He didn't fight her, his arms slid around her, hands bunching in her blouse and pulling her against him just like he'd done a few weeks prior. He tasted the same, his body felt the same, just a little stiffer from the suit, and she knew, without a doubt, it was him. He kissed similarly, only slightly more passionate; as if this alter-ego of his was harsher, more demanding and deep. She liked both. And she knew for sure when he pulled away; he didn't bother pretending, he just pressed his forehead against hers like he did both times before. "So now you know," he murmured in the low voice of Bruce Wayne.

"Now I know," she replied, pecking his lips lingeringly.

And she knew from then on that they would last; more than any relationship before them. He was meant to be there, meant to bring more meaning into her life, to complete a part of it she'd been searching to fill in all the wrong places. Who knew her future husband would be a rodent living in the darkest city in existence? She didn't know then but she knew now.


	15. Their Forever (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was only one answer she could give him, only one word came to mind.

She knew proposals were supposed to be the kind of words that made every woman weep before they even started... She also knew that when a man proposed to her, she didn't want to hear the "You're so beautiful and I'm so lucky," type speech. She wanted something that fit with her; she wanted to hear that this man wanted _her_ for all of her faults and qualities, for her outlandish love of danger and deadly curiosity... She wanted to know that when he looked up at her, when he asked her those four words, he _needed_ her answer to be yes. That he couldn't really imagine a lifetime without her. And years ago, when Jimmy had said that, she'd known it wasn't true. He was scared and it was sweet, but the emotions weren't in his voice or his eyes... It was like he felt obligated, like he needed to ask her, to prove that he loved her. But now... Here... It wasn't Jimmy in front of her. The goofy photographer was the farthest thing from her mind; he was years ago and nothing like the man who knelt in front of her.

She couldn't begin to question how long they'd been together. She'd been in Gotham seven years and she knew that they had come together rather early in her move over, but their true relationship started when all the secrets had been revealed. The Justice League, her powers, her history in Smallville, and his alter-ego, his dark past and future. That was when they became the strong couple they were now, unbreakable. There wasn't a day that she questioned whether she was supposed to be there, with him. She knew it. She knew that all her life had been leading her to a place she never really expected to go. She'd always been a Metropolis girl and then circumstances brought her to Gotham and she chose never to turn back.

"I never thought I'd do this," he said, his voice low. "When I accepted what my life would be made of, darkness and secrets, a dual identity that could mean life or death every night... I thought I'd accepted that nothing could really come of any relationship. That I was meant to be alone and never have that one person... When I met you, that all changed." He smiled. "Your curiosity will probably get you killed... And I won't fight for you to stop; I wouldn't take that from you. It's what makes you so incredible... Your passion and your need for truth and justice." He shook his head. "You're headstrong and sometimes I think you have an underwhelming sense of fear. But... You're the strength behind the idea of truth. You keep pushing until you find it and that's only one of many reasons I love you..."

She bit her lip, her brows lifting. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was becoming shaky.

"I know that a future with me means that you'll spend a lot of days wondering if I made it... I know that you'll be targeted even more than usual because standing at my side makes you an enemy to so many. But... If you're willing to stand up for the world then I can only ask that you stand by my side just as proudly." He took her hand, his thumb stroking the top tenderly. "I can't promise we'll live well into our eighties or retire on a beach somewhere. I can't tell you that I'll live to see tomorrow or that one day the world will be a better place. I can't even assure you Gotham will ever be right. But I can love you with all of myself and give you everything I am for as long as we have."

She blinked away the tears that filled her eyes.

"So, Chloe Ann Sullivan... Would you do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked, his lips curving at the corners.

She stared at him; those dark eyes that she'd fallen for the moment he looked at her, that mouth that had kissed every inch of her, had caressed her lips with such love she'd never known it possible. To so many, Bruce Wayne was someone else; an arrogant billionaire with the world at his fingertips. But to her, he was just Bruce, just the Bat, two men in one, both of which loved her with an intensity she met each day. There was only one answer she could give him, only one word came to mind, and she didn't question it, she knew it was right.

"Yes," she breathed, a tear slipping down her cheek.

He grinned, rising from the floor and lifting her up, his arms wrapped around her. She buried her face against his neck and breathed him in. Finally... They got their forever.


	16. iPod Shuffle Ships (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 shorts to 5 songs

  
  
 

**I** \- " _All At Sea_ " by Richard Walters  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Word Count** : 499

"Put your arms around my neck," he ordered, his breathing harsh.

"No," she replied, shaking her head defiantly.

With a frown, he hauled her up, her body falling limp, no energy in her to do much more than lie there in his grip.

She sighed. "Put me down," she told him.

He refused, lips pursed as he ran through the dark alleys. His batmobile would be there soon and then he could get her to Gotham General. It wouldn't he long. He kept running, through puddles and the falling rain. What was taking so long?

It wasn't deep, he told himself, glancing at her wound every few seconds. The blood pooling on her stomach and dripping to the ground beneath them... It was barely a scratch. She'd be fine.

"Put me down," she said again.

He still refused. Running faster. If the car wasn't there soon, he might just have to take to the skies.

"Bruce."

She said his voice so softly that his legs stopped moving and he fell to his knees, still holding her close to him. "Don't ask me to..."

She reached up, her face wet with tears and rain and removed his cowl for him with only a small struggle. He felt the rain pour down, drenching his hair and his face as he stared at her sorrowfully. He cupped her face with a gloved hand, wiping away cold and warm droplets.

She smiled shakily. "Just hold me."

"Chloe," he murmured, his brows furrowing.

She pressed her face against his chest and wrapped a hand around his neck. "I just want you to hold me," she murmured. "Please?"

He closed his eyes, falling to the cement further until he was sitting there, in the middle of a dark street, holding her against him. She was folded up in his arms, her breath skittering over his neck. His hands slid up and down her back soothingly. He turned his face down, cheek pressed against her hair. She was humming under her breath and he knew that song, the first they ever danced to. When he had to convince her to give him a chance, when he had to turn his charm up to all new levels to get her to even consider looking in his direction. Back when she didn't know he was Batman yet, only an arrogant billionaire unworthy of her time and attention.

But that was years ago and they were so much more than now. Or they were... They were going to be... His tears mixed with the cold rain pouring down his face. He only knew she was gone because he couldn't feel her breath against his neck anymore. He hugged her tighter, so much that if she had been alive, it probably would've hurt. And then he let out a hoarse scream of agony that echoed all through Gotham, enough to make even the cruelest of criminals flinch. He hardened further that night, in a way that would never truly heal.

  
  
 

 **II** \- " _The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning_ " by Smashing Pumpkins  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Word Count** : 352

"There's no one left," he growled.

"There's us," she disagreed, hands finding her hips.

"We're two people against the world!" he yelled, scowling darkly.

"And you were one person against Gotham. Oliver was one against Star City. Clark was one against Metropolis! So now there's two of us and not the whole world, Bruce. There are people out there, asking for help, pleading for somebody to stand up and save them. I know you and you can't drown out their cries," she exclaimed. "Is there a chance we'll lose? Of course! Is there an even bigger chance we'll die in a hail of gunfire and gore? Definitely!" She stared at him, eyes wide. "But we'll die knowing we tried. That we went out there and we didn't let the people suffer."

He stared at her, shoulders heaving. "And if I lose you... You want me to go on, don't you? If you die before me, I'm supposed to keep going, keep trying to save a world that is so far beyond help, it's unfathomable."

She walked toward him, hand lifting and cupping his cheek. "If you fell, I would keep fighting. Because deep down, you know that if, _when,_ I die... I would want you to keep going. I would want you to answer that call..."

His arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her up against him. "You stay by my side... If you're gone for a second, I'll come looking for you."

She nodded. "So we'll fight?"

With a sigh, he nodded.

Pressing a button, their suits were revealed from behind the wall. They were doing the right thing, he knew that. As she shed her clothes and pulled on the black leather, standing tall and certain, he felt his hope relight. If there was anybody who could take on the world and bring hope back to a civilization who no longer knew the definition, it was his wife. A world darker than any before awaited them; the screams for help echoed all around. And they'd finally get their answer, even if the last two heroes on the Earth died trying.

 

 **III** \- " _A Little Bit Longer_ " by Jonas Brothers  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Word Count** : 274

She left him with a kiss and an "I'm so sorry." Bags packed, tears in her eyes, and regret in her every step. There was no explanation, no turning back, she just walked out, caught her cab and disappeared into the night.

He called, he e-mailed, he asked everyone close to her, but nobody had an explanation. It was as if she disappeared off the face of the Earth and nobody knew why. It wasn't until she was no longer there that he realized just how much he loved her. The manor was so quiet, his life now nothing but Wayne Enterprises and Batman. Something that had once been fulfillment enough; but now... Now that he knew what her laughter sounded like, what her smile could do to him, now that he'd experienced what life could be like with her in it, he didn't want to go back.

They told him to move on; told him it was best to let her go and find someone else. But he couldn't; he refused to. She was coming back, he knew it. She would give him an explanation. One day. He'd wait. Wait until she returned with that smile and that laugh and that promise that his life would no longer just be work and heroism. She'd fill the dark, empty spot next to him in bed. The one no other woman would ever occupy. He loved her; more than he ever knew he did or could. And he knew she felt the same; she'd tell him just as soon as she came back to him. He wait for that day forever if he had to.

 

 **IV** \- " _Stuff and Nonsense_ " by Missy Higgins  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Word Count** : 233

His life was full of uncertainties. Whether he'd live through the night, whether he could give her the life she deserved. She didn't ask for a future, but she deserved one and he should give it to her. No matter how much he wanted to bend down on knee and promise it, he couldn't. He still hadn't told her of his alter-ego, though he was sure she had her suspicions. He couldn't bring her into that twisted life; she was already in too deep with his public persona.

She knew he loved her, would for as long as he could, but he couldn't promise her more than that day. He couldn't assure her he'd be home every night, not when he dressed in Kevlar and went out to battle the worst of the city. And she let him go, pretended to sleep when he slipped out of bad, unwrapped his arms from around her. She let him slip back in each morning, sore and exhausted, and didn't ask the questions he knew must plague her constantly. Because she loved him enough to do it, day after day.

He wondered when she'd finally break and he prayed the day never came. He gave what he could, hoped each time it was enough for that day, but eventually... She'd be tired of it and she'd want more, and he didn't know what would happen then.

 

 **V** \- " _One More Day_ " by VAST  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Word Count** : 328

He stared at the fire burning ahead of him, the only thing lighting up the room now. The darkness crept in close, ready to swallow him whole. Not so long ago, the darkness hadn't been so strong, hadn't been so all-consuming. But he made the wrong decision, turned her away when he shouldn't have, his last chance at having anything truly worth everything he'd gone through. The only light in his life of solitude and shadows. He'd ordered her away, told her he wouldn't be the reason she died, refused to listen as she told him all the logical reasons that he was being a complete and utter fool.

But in the end, he won. She was packed and gone and he'd likely never see her again. He'd never roll over to find her next to him, to wrap his arms around her and breathe in that scent that was all her. He'd never heard her laugh or feel her skin or kiss her smiling lips. It was over and it was all because of him. He'd walked away from the only person keeping him up anymore, keeping his head above water. And now the darkness was creeping in and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it at bay.

He told himself he should've waited, just one more day. Just one more day with her, to hold and love and find redemption in. Just one more day without the darkness; with her to light up the parts of his life that had seemed to die so long ago. To make him feel happiness once more, like he hadn't in years. Just to hold her, see her, anything. But she'd never return, not after what he said and how he acted. She was gone and he was alone, with nothing but the fire that was slowly dying away, leaving him in the dark room, the shadows finally feasting on him with nothing to keep them back.


	17. A Small Shove (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'd agreed to keep it secret, so he really shouldn't be showing any signs of disapproval.

They'd agreed to keep it secret, so he really shouldn't he showing any signs of disapproval. This was the League, after all, and though it was made of mostly men it didn't mean all of them were intent on getting her attention. Still, every time he looked over it seemed there was yet another man at her side, standing a little too close, staring at her a little too long. It wasn't so long ago that _he_ 'd been the one glancing at her longingly, before that all boiled over into a sexual encounter against the bookshelf while they'd been in the middle of work. They were unofficially together after that, but mixing business and pleasure wasn't something they wanted out in the open. So they agreed to keep it quiet, even to the League. But standing here, now, he was beginning to regret agreeing.

"You glare any harder, they might just combust," he heard from his side.

Turning, Bruce found Lois Lane standing next to him, looking amused. "I wasn't glaring."

She lifted an unconvinced brow. "Right, and you're not totally in love with my cousin either."

His mouth pursed before he turned back around. "She told you?"

"Please... As if I couldn't see the ‘I just had amazing sex with my secret lover' look _all over her_!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

His lips quirked with amusement.

"You know Bart's been after her for years, right?" she asked, motioning to the short speedster staring up at Chloe adoringly as they chit-chatted across the room.

She told him; not that it was needed since Bart never missed a chance to flirt with his _Chloelicious_. "She's never been interested in him that way."

"No... But once upon a time, she _did_ have a small crush on Ollie." She pointed a finger at the handsome billionaire making his way toward Chloe, file in hand and half-smile in place. "And I'm not one to gossip, but... He's always been pretty partial to his ‘Sidekick,'" she hinted.

Bruce glanced at her and then back to Oliver who was nearing Chloe, who had no idea what was going on. Within seconds, he crossed the floor, passing right by Oliver and without warning wrapped an arm around Chloe, drew her up against his chest and kissed the breath right out of her. Her feet dangled a few inches above the floor, one of her legs lifting as she wrapped her arms around his neck and sunk into the kiss with fervor.

"What'd you do?" Clark asked, sighing as he stared at his girlfriend with disapproval.

"What? I just gave him a small shove..." She lifted a shoulder. "It's not hurting anybody." She smirked. "Now it's out in the open and they've got a better chance." She brushed her hands together. "Mission accomplished."

Clark rolled his eyes, smiling at her.

Breaking apart, panting, Chloe stared at Bruce with half-massed eyes. "Well... I think our secret relationship was just outed," she teased, licking her lips.

He smirked, pecking her lips once more. "I'm not complaining."

She grinned. "Lois told you about my very brief crush on Oliver, didn't she?"

Instead of replying, he kissed her once more, distracting her into moaning, any thoughts of Oliver Queen entirely gone from her mind. Jealousy wasn't something he was about to admit to, even if she was entirely worth it.


	18. Taunting Freckles (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a specific spot on her shoulder that he loved to kiss.

There was a specific spot on her shoulder that he loved to kiss. The second her skin was revealed, his mouth was automatically _there_ , tongue tracing the design in her skin that he was sure she'd never paid much attention to. He, on the other hand, often traced them with his fingers while she slept peacefully next to him. Five freckles sat at the curve of her shoulder, leading onto her back and he noticed them long before she ever let his mouth wander her skin. Back when he had gotten good at pretending they were only business partners and he had no attraction to her. She'd come to Gotham on League work and hadn't planned to stay long, but he'd changed her mind of that as swiftly as he could.

For weeks that lasted far too long, in his opinion, he was forced to see those five freckles taunting him as she went on, oblivious to just how much he wanted and needed her. Physically, he found her entirely made up of soft curves and supple flesh. But it was her mind that caught his attention first; how quick and snarky and devious she could be while working for the better side. How she could knock him down a few notches with a handful of words and smirk at him knowingly when he just shook his head, falling further for the spirited blonde who'd walked into his city and claimed him without meaning to.

But now, she was his and so were the freckles that could no longer taunt him from afar. He could trace them and kiss them and gaze at them all he wanted. She laid next to him now, her arm curved above her head and her lips curled in a smile as she panted, bare chest heaving. His forefinger made shapes with the five freckles while she simply tried to catch her breath. He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, trailing down her chest and nuzzling the top of her breast with his nose.

She laughed breathlessly. "We've barely _stopped_."

With a smirk as an answer, he slid between her thighs once more. He wasn't sure what it was about those freckles, but they always made him want her more, made him need her and crave her heat and her hands gripping him as her mouth fell open, his name cried from those lips he loved so much. He dipped his head, kissed her freckled shoulder and found her head, threading their fingers before he rocked against her, already feeling the slick apex of her thighs come alive. He was more than ready for round three.


	19. Epic Love Stories (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beyond dreams of Pulitzer's and working at the Daily Planet, Chloe had strived for something much deeper.

Beyond dreams of Pulitzer's and working at the Daily Planet, Chloe Sullivan had strived for something much deeper. She first thought she'd found it with Clark; that theirs would be an epic love story. But apparently that tale was best made for him and Lois. Then there was Jimmy, a quirky man who even proposed, vowing to love her for a lifetime. But he too wasn't who she wound up with. It took her years of heartbreak; of dating men that often wound up hurting her. Since moving to Smallville it seemed like one long list of men that were infected and in being so, often threatened her life because of it. By her mid-twenties, relationships were far too complicated given her life, where neither dreams outside of the emotional were possible anymore. So she gave up, wrote off men entirely and decided to devote herself to the betterment of the world.

And then Bruce Wayne turned her life upside down, never letting her constant refusals of his proposition of dinner deter him. And she could admit that his easy smirk and dark persona were entirely too attractive, but she remained firm. The last thing she needed was a broody superhero that would only make her fall in love and never really catch her. So she kept him at a distance, as much as she could when he was so adamant that they could be something more than partners against crime.

He was suave and charming and made her feel like the entire world compared nothing to her. So while it took some time before she gave in, by their first kiss she knew she was done for. It wasn't all romance and heart attack worthy sex though. Although, she had to give it to him, theirs was a relationship that satisfied her like no other before it. But along with the good came a hefty balance of bad as well. Being Batman made things even darker than usual. He had to be suspicious and careful and going out each night reminded her that he may not come back. She'd patched up so many wounds, she was sure to chew her lip off with worrying. He wouldn't let her heal him and so he suffered through it and she was sure to kiss each and every scar.

It was hard; loving a man she knew was walking the thin line between life and death each day. Knowing that while he was helping his city, he was also sacrificing a great deal of himself. She never ran away though; never packed her bags and told him she couldn't keep doing it. And she knew he was scared that one day he'd return home to find that she'd finally given up on him, and them, but it never happened. She learned that loving him meant sacrificing some things; a certain level of security and reassurance. She could either live the easy and safe life, with somebody who would never know her or love her quite like him, or she could let herself have her own epic love story with Bruce Wayne. Chloe Sullivan was now coward, so she accepted that love hurt and she patched her heart up each time, leaving it wide open for the Dark Knight that held tight to it. Her dream could sometimes appear as a nightmare, but she wouldn't trade it in. She was where she was meant to be; with him.


	20. Unexpectedly Expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She returned home to an empty apartment...

She returned home to an empty apartment. Not what she expected on their first anniversary, but she accepted that there were more important things than them, even if it did weigh heavy on her shoulders and her heart ached for simpler times. She shrugged her coat off and kicked away her heels, wiggling her toes, thankful to be free of her attractive but tortuous shoes. The lights were off, as they often were when they were away and she reached for where the switch was without having to feel around. As expected, the lights turned on, dimmer than usual, and the fire flickered to life. She jumped slightly, brows lifting with surprise. And then she realized she wasn't alone.

He stood across the room from her, familiar smirk in place. In one hand was a glass of wine, in the other a single tulip. She tried to hide her smile but it came out full force, nearly painful it was so large. Her head tipped to the side with affection. She'd honestly rather expected him to forget; he'd make up for it, of course. But nights were often reserved for his alter-ego and the days with work. He walked toward her and her eyes couldn't help but take in his lithe form, just as toned as ever. She bit her lip, watching how his dress shirt spread across his broad chest and hugged his arms. She was starting to think they could just skip dinner and go straight to the bedroom.

He handed her the glass of wine and before she could reach for the flower he trailed the impossibly soft petals from her temple down her face, tickling against her neck before he leaned forward and caught her mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. She moaned, lifting up on her tip-toes to keep them close. She could feel him twirling the flower between his fingers, its petals brushing against her ear and bare shoulder. She shivered, eyes fluttering. As she gasped for air, not pulling away, their tongues tangled together and she felt her knees go weak.

His arm slid around her waist knowingly, keeping her from collapsing the floor in a fit of contented mush. She felt him chuckle against her mouth, the deep noise making her stomach flip-flip. It had obviously been far too long since they had any _quality_ time together. She felt his mouth trail up her cheek lingeringly. "Happy anniversary," he growled huskily.

She tipped the wine and finished it in one swig before she wrapped her arms around his neck, hopped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. She buried her fingers in his hair and smirked. "Quite the welcome home, Bruce, I think I'm going to have to return the thought."

He lifted a brow. "And what do you propose?"

She licked her lips. "I have the perfect gift in the bedroom."

His lips curled. "Really?"

"Yeah... It's hidden between the sheets. Wanna help me look for it?"

She felt his hands wander lower, cupping her butt atop her skirt. "I could lend a hand or two."

He started walking toward the bedroom and even though she knew they only had a few hours before his conscious would get the better of him and he'd suit up, she planned to make those few hours well worth it.


	21. Convincing Arguments (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce disproves of Chloe's living arrangements and sets out to making a compelling argument that his apartment is better suited to her.

"Remind me again why you still live in the worst part of Gotham," he said, voice deep as he stared out her window. From where he stood, he could see a gang of boys barely in their teens, out looking for mischief and mayhem.

"Not all of us have the luxury of a high-rise apartment and a security system to die for," she called back in reply.

"You could." His lips pursed.

"Is this your subtle way of asking me to move in?" She crossed the room to stand next to him, a brow lifted and her lips curled with slight amusement.

He looked over at her. "Depends on your answer."

She grinned. "And if I said no?"

He turned to her, head tipped to the side. "I'd be forced to convince you otherwise."

"And that would involve?" Her eyes thinned challengingly.

He reached for her, one large hand finding her hip while the other cupped her cheek, brushing a tendril of hair away with his thumb. "Very little clothing, a heated exchange of words and... a very thorough tongue lashing." His eyes darkened.

She bit her lip, leaning into him until her body was flush with his. "I dare you to prove your point, Bruce."

His lips curled as he pressed his forehead to hers, growling in reply, "By the end of tonight, you're going to be begging me to have you move in... No more nights spent waiting here in hopes that I call after my patrolling... No more checking, rechecking, and later getting up in the middle of the night just in case, to see if those locks are still holding... Waking up each morning within arm's reach..." He stared at her deeply. "And, of course, most convincing of all... The promise of seeing Alfred each day."

She chuckled softly. "You make a compelling argument," she murmured. "But first let's try your tongue-lashing suggestion..."

He laughed throatily before suddenly sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her toward the bedroom.

"We should check those locks," she mentioned absently, eyes glancing at the door.

He laid her down on the bed. "I'm sure if anybody tries to get in here, I can protect you."

She lifted a brow, raising herself up on her elbows. "I can handle myself, thank you. I was only looking out for you... You tend to get distracted when clothes come off... And that wouldn't be at all conducive to your argument."

He cocked a brow and tugged his tie loose. "I have every intention of making a solid and undeniable point, Ms. Sullivan..." He licked his lips, his free hand falling to her upturned knees, pushing them apart before he knelt between her thighs. "And then you'll enjoy the same luxuries and more."

She fell back to the bed, a tiny gasp escaping her as his body covered her own, strong and large and all-encompassing. "I'm willing to pay complete and utter attention to everything you have to prove," she replied, her voice falling deep with anticipation.

He lowered his head, lips brush against hers with each word. "I should probably tell you I already hired movers to pick up your stuff for the day after tomorrow..."

"You were so sure I would agree?" She lifted an amused brow.

"Oh I knew I'd have to convince you..." He rocked his hips against her, delighting in her whimper. "That's half the fun."

_So true._


	22. Possessive Hearts (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy does not become them to anyone but each other.

"I wouldn't go in there, Miss Chloe," Alfred warned idly, standing near the door leading into Bruce's office.

Black silk gown swaying around her legs as she angrily stomped toward him, her kitten heels nearly tearing the carpet beneath her as she radiated with anger, she completely ignored him, throwing open the double doors to stalk inside. "You had _no_ right!" she bellowed, glaring darkly at the man across the room from her, a half-empty decanter of brandy on the fireplace ledge near his hand while the other held a cup of the reddish brown liquor.

Whirling around, his body rigid and taut, he shouted right back at her, " _I_ have no right?"

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Alfred closed the doors for them to argue in peace.

Nearly breaking his glass as he slammed it down on the shelf, he walked toward her. Every muscle clenched and flexed, his chest rising and falling as if he'd just run the entire city. His usually stoic face was crimson in color and his jaw was drawn so tight, she was sure his teeth were grounding together with every step. "When you live here, under my roof, you won't be soliciting whatever handsome _idiot_ looks your way, do you understand?"

Hands on her hips, Chloe threw her head back and laughed at him. "That's _rich_ coming from Gotham's resident billionaire _whore!_ "

His brow fell lower over his dark eyes as he replied in a deep voice that nearly matched Batman's, "At least my flirtations were a _ruse_ , Sullivan."

"A ruse ends before the bedroom door, Wayne," she spat taking a few steps closer, her curvy hips swaying with vigor. "And I can guarantee it wasn't just _you_ in your bedroom these last three weeks," she yelled, cheeks flushing with irritation.

Bristling, he clenched his fists. "And that gives you the right to practically throw yourself at a business partner of mine?"

"He's your business partner's assistant, thank you." She glared. "I wouldn't dirty myself with _anybody_ who saw fit to work with _you_!"

"Oh, his _assistant_ , how attractive," he sneered. "The mail-boy wasn't available?"

"Unbelievable," she muttered, walking toward him with decisive, sharp steps. "You publicly humiliate me for having a good time with someone and for what? So you can berate me in the solitude of your office?"

He shook his head, towering over her. "You're the one who came back here, I didn't-"

"Shut up," she yelled, cutting him off as she poked him in the chest for emphasis. "The only reason I'm here is because Oliver had the bright idea that you would be valuable to the team. But _clearly_ , he wasn't thinking straight. Because if the rest of the world is counting on your smug, arrogant, chauvinistic ass to save us, then we're all doomed!" Each word was louder and filled with searing venom as she was nearly nose to nose with him, lifted up on the tips of her shoes, her heavy breath beating against his own. "And if you _ever_ -"

He cut her off with his mouth, his lips slanting across hers and branding them his and only his from then on out. Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly, fingers winding in his hair possessively. His large hands gripped her hips lifting her up off the ground until her legs were wrapped around him, her thighs tight against his waist. He slid calloused fingers beneath the soft black fabric of her dress, blunt nails scoring her thighs as he turned them around and nearly slammed her against the wall. She let out a gasp, hips rocking against him, teeth nipping at his lips.

"He won't touch you," Bruce growled against her lips, tongue sliding along the roof of her mouth slowly. "No one will."

Her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt and slid down, tearing it open before her hands were splayed across her chest. "If we're playing the Mine game, you should know that I won't be the only possession in this relationship."

His lips curled in semblance of a smirk. "Marking your territory, Sullivan?" He lifted a coarse, black brow.

She bit his lower lip playfully before she ducked her head and pressed a kiss where his heart lay. "You know, the only thing I thought you got possessive over was Gotham."

His fingers dug into her thighs, so close to her heat, she whimpered with need. "You're now at the top of the list..." He kissed her neck, nose nuzzling her behind her ear.

"I can give as good as I get, Bruce," she replied, legs squeezing him tightly.

"Is that a promise?"

"Mmm..." Her lips brushed his as she opened her dark green eyes to look into his blackish-blue. "Tempt me and find out."

With a roguish smile, he pinned her to the wall once more, lips nearly bruising in their intensity against her own, matched kiss for kiss.

Outside of the room, Alfred gave a shake of his head, a chuckle bubbling in his throat. He'd seen this coming from the very beginning and it looked as though Mr. Queen owed him an easily made fifty dollars.


	23. Waiting For Her (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Sequel to Wait and See) Their choice for rendezvous weren't only for safety.

She told herself they met in dark corners because standing in the light was like having a target marked on them, but she knew the real reason and it wasn't anything to do with life or death, although he had become quite the seductive addiction. She had the information he needed, packed safely in an easily accessible disk that only the two of them knew the codes to. Like every other time they met, she turned down one of the many dirty and shadowed alleyways, waiting for his silent arrival. She wasn't scared; not of him or the creeps that walked the streets. She'd dealt with demons worse than them or aiming to be, she had the scars and background to show for it. She could handle her own.

When he arrived, she felt a tingle run up her spine; anticipation. She turned around knowingly, not bothering to wait for his smug question of whether she had it or not, amused at how he caught her off guard. It'd been a long while since he'd been able to sneak up on her; the tell tale signs were more instinct than sight or hearing. She looked up at him, swathed in his Kevlar and skin tight suit, showing off each and every muscle that she'd memorized by sight alone. The only way to see each other was from the shine of the moon filtering between them, lighting the fewest of features, but enough to know who it was, easily. He was rather hard to miss.

She plucked the disk from her pocket and held it up, but drew it away before he could take it. "What? No thank you?"

His lips pursed for a moment before curling slightly. "I don't have time tonight."

"You always have time," she reminded, lifting a brow. "In fact, you seem to have more time than you did before."

The closest thing to a smile crossed his mouth. "I told you to get new shoes."

He always said that and she continued not to. Perhaps because she knew what they did to him; how they haunted his thoughts. Had they finally caused her demise? Was she still going against the simplest of orders? She reached forward, ran a finger along his lower lip. "I told you to go to hell," she reminded.

He smirked. "I remember."

She grinned. "And yet here you are."

He stepped forward and turned her so quickly, her breath stuttered. His hard body pressed her against the brick wall behind her. "This is hell."

She licked her lips. "It's certainly hot enough." She rocked her hips against him, satisfied when he growled, low from his throat.

"I don't have time to..." he trailed off on a groan when she took one of his hands and placed it across her breast.

It didn't take long; he took control within seconds and had her hauled up against the wall, her thighs parted and her shirt up to her shoulders, bra pushed out of the way. Batman or not, duties or not, he never turned her down. More than that, there were a few times when she walked into her office at the Gotham Gazette only to have the black bat bending her over her desk and pushing her skirt up to her waist. He sought her out more than she ever turned to him and she preferred it that way. They were supposed to stay as professional as possible, only going to each other with "business" related problems. But there was something about his growl, about his eyes that penetrated through her with such visceral passion. She couldn't get him off her mind and now that he was being as honest as he could get; admitting his true identity and trusting her with details he'd only given to Lucius or Alfred, she knew that she was affecting him as push as he was affecting her.

She wondered if Lucius made modifications to his suit specifically for this, but when he was thrusting inside of her without having to shed most of his suit, she really couldn't care. So long as he was filling her, putting together those broken pieces of her that only found their place when he was touching her, kissing her, growling against her throat. The dark alleyways were their own little piece of heaven, the moonlight their only beacon to each other, shining down across his large body as it covered hers entirely. Just once, she'd like to have Bruce, her hands running through his hair and his full, bare body pressing into hers. But it was Kevlar that scraped against her stomach and black leather that her fingers ran over as she gripped his shoulders. It was all _him_ inside of her though; Bruce and Batman taking her to heights that made her eyes roll back into her head and a guttural moan escape her.

When he kissed her, it was Bruce. It was tender but passionate, it was deep and intense and fulfilling in a way his alter ego couldn't reach. His lips, his breath across her face, her breasts, his teeth nibbling her lips, her neck, her nipples. It was fierce and possessive and the best part of Gotham were these moments. Forget chasing down leads and fighting crime; it was when she was wrapped up in his arms, having him take her as if she was his salvation before he went out and let the darkness pervade his mind. She knew not to cry his name out when she came, it was too dangerous, but she did whisper it into his mouth sometimes, when it was to the point where she was too was feeling possessive and needed him to know she wanted them both.

His gloved hands held tight to her hips, fingers digging in. His mouth kissed the corner of her lips, his breathing heavy and harsh, panting against her as he thrust harder, faster, deeper. She let out a cracked moan, her mouth falling open and her head leaning forward, forehead against his mask. "Bruce," she whimpered on a breath that was so quiet, she barely heard it. But she knew he did, because his fingers squeezed her and he captured her mouth before he came, painting her insides with the acknowledgment that she had them both; that both of him wanted her.

He held her tight against the wall until they were both able to stand up without fear of collapsing. Her heels clicked against the pavement. It took her a few seconds to collect herself, rearranging clothes clearing her throat, licking her swollen lips before staring back into those eyes of his. The moon shone down on him, an angel of darkness, standing before her like a promise of security and all that was right and wrong in the world. He reached for her, tucked her hair behind her ear tenderly, stroking her cheek with his gloved thumb. She knew she shouldn't fall too deep, but then wondered if maybe she already had, the second she first stepped into that alley and met him, offering up her assistance whenever he wanted.

She handed him the disk, which he put away in one of the slots on his belt before taking a step back, returning to the stoic hero she knew so well.

"Be careful," she said, though she knew he didn't want to hear it.

He glanced down at her feet and she knew he was cocking a brow, asking her once more to get new shoes, quieter than those she so loved wearing.

She smirked, shaking her head. "Not happening."

He sighed, annoyed and somehow proud of her all in the same moment. He was used to cowering and she'd never lower herself.

She left before he could, knowing if she stayed he'd only end up disappearing the first second her eyes weren't on him. She stepped out into the streetlamp lit sidewalk, already missing the embrace of dark, moonlit alleys. She'd return again; she always did. Because he was there, waiting for her.


	24. Yes! We Will Survive! (R)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever happened to freedom?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when I listen to "The End is the Beginning is the End," by the Smashing Pumpkins (Watchmen Trailer Theme)

Whatever happened to freedom? What happened to walking home at night without fear of being raped or killed or attacked for no reason except intolerable cruelty? Some part of her screamed, " _Run away! Back to the safety of Metropolis!_ " where the terror hadn't become this dark, **yet**. But here she stood, shoulders straight, chin lifted high, dressed neck to toe in black leather, eyes set down on the city of Gotham. Fire on one end, pained screaming and cries for help on the other. Always the same; rebellions and pleading; terror, pain and fear, ruling over everything.

She heard as he landed next to her, tipped her head slightly to acknowledge him.

"It's worse tonight," she said, eyes scanning over the shattered landscape before her.

"It gets worse every night," he growled.

Once upon a time, she was a reporter. A woman who saw the world falling behind the scenes and refused to let it happen. A person, a citizen, a human being crying out for justice. And now here she stood; a hero or vigilante, depending on who was spinning tales this week. She'd trained for this, until her body ached and her eyes could no longer produce tears. Until she didn't know the meaning of giving up. Until she knew what it felt like to break every bone in her body and understood what true agony was. Until she'd lost everyone who ever mattered to her to a world that wouldn't accept change; that didn't know the meaning of love over hate or peace instead of war. Here they stood on the brink of death, always, and she refused to lie down and let it take her.

"Lois?" she asked, staring ahead with dark eyes.

"She's gone."

She nodded. She knew she would. With Clark's death... Who would've believed it? Doomsday had his day in history; farewell best friend. And Lois couldn't take it; couldn't stand living without her _Smallville_. Some part of Chloe, calloused over the years, wanted to tell her to wipe away the tears and get over it. But she knew... She knew what it was like to love so strongly, so deeply that to lose that one person... The only person that makes you whole any longer, that makes you believe that "Yes! You can make a difference. Yes! You can save the world! Yes! It's still savable!"

His hand found her shoulder and she felt the tears burn behind her eyes, but did she let them fall? No. Because some part of her applauded Lois; called out to her in understanding. "Go! Be with him!"

She felt his body next to hers, nearly swallowing her tiny form whole, shadowing her from the moon and the fire and the cold wind. She turned her head, stared up into those dark, brooding eyes that had long ago turned her way and proved to her that even in this world of death and destruction, there was hope. When the League fell, Oliver Queen laying dead in the rubble of war, pierced through the heart with his own arrow as a warning, Bart Allen set on fire, nothing left but his red sneakers, Victor Stone forever shut down, never to reboot, Arthur Curry dehydrated into sand... She stared down, tears bringing her to her knees, screaming to the sky, begging for it to give them back. And its answer was nothing but rain, to douse the fires and the rage and the hatred that built deep inside her and everywhere she looked.

And then a hand found her shoulder, just like now. She turned, glared up at the Dark Knight as he stood in his usually intimidating suit. But then he was torn, blood seeping from his arms and legs, a gash across his stomach. Still he sought to comfort her, to remind her that there were still a few left; that they were still heroes waiting to serve, to help. He took her arm, lifted her from the ground and carried her away. From that moment, she never left his arms, his side, or his heart.

Now, Batman gathered his Watchtower against his chest, his large hand cradling her head. She stared out from the cover and safety of his embrace, at their world and their city falling further victim to human indecency. The rest of the world was soon to go; it was already on its way. She'd seen Metropolis recently and it was an older version of Gotham; one where crime hadn't quite reached this caliber. And who would stand and save the people? Who would assure them that freedom was still there, still plausible?

She lifted her chin, eyes rising to her husband's. The darkness in his gaze was the same in her own; so deep it seemed never to end. "Are you ready?" he asked her.

"Always."

He leaned forward, lips meeting hers in a passionate, all-encompassing kiss. Goodbye? Or farewell for now? She never knew until she returned. Each night was another step closer to the inevitable; to joining their fellow heroes in the shredded wake of another night in hell.

His mouth was hotter than any fire dissolving what was left of the harbor. His tongue tangling with hers, a dance she knew all too well, more erotic than when they met before dawn, stripped their suits away and fell into their bed, ready to work out every inch of frustration. His hands gripping her shoulders, drawing her into him induced flashes of her nails dragging down his back as she arched into him, hips rocking and meeting. He was the only person alive who could rid her of her darkness for even a moment; his mouth kissing her skin as if it was the last delicate flower petal in a field of burnt weeds. His voice, deep and longing, crying her name like his salvation, echoing in the room around them, safe from the cruelty of the outside. What she'd give for it to be dawn now? But night had fallen not so long ago and they had a job to do...

When they parted, her eyes refused to open for a moment, still hazy with dreams of later. She could feel his breath skittering over her open lips as she licked them, relishing the last taste of him. Her eyes opened to stare into his once more. She reached up, let her hand slide down the side of his cowl, thumb stroking the revealed flesh of his cheek. "Come back to me." It wasn't a question but a demand.

His arm around her waist tightened, jaw flexing. "If you wait, I'll come."

Always the same. Neither knew if he meant to wait for him at dawn in the quiet of their bedroom or if he was promising to follow her as Lois has done for Clark. Either way, she knew that by the end of night, she and he would reunite. Whatever it took.

As he stepped back, he took her hand and they turned, stepping onto the ledge of the building, eyes overlooking the torn city.

"HHHHHEEEELLLLPPPP!" the people begged, screamed, pleaded.

 _We're coming_.

They leapt, easing to the ground easily before turning in separate directions to fight, attack, survive, justify, _live_. Just one more night. Just until dawn... where freedom was close enough for her to touch once more. She ran forward, body tightening in anticipation of whatever came her way this time. She couldn't focus on him; could only trust that he would try his best, that he would do all he could to be the hero she knew he was and return to her. Because that's what she was doing, what she would always do; from dusk ‘til dawn. Chloe Wayne, Watchtower, one of few heroes left in the world. One of few who still proclaimed, "Yes! We _will_ survive!"


	25. Dark Havens (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were both just waiting for the moment they could escape...

Their everyday lives were riddled with disaster, danger, and fear; for the world, each other, their own souls at times. But when all was shed - his Kevlar suit discarded, her Watchtower duties finished, and their masks came off - it was just them. They could forget, even for a fraction of a moment, that the city of Gotham depended on them daily, that the rest of the world might call on them at any second. They could pretend that they were normal; just two people in love, sharing a moment, forgetting everything but the chill of the room hugging their naked bodies in its empty solitude.

The curtains were purposely thick, so heavy that they pushed out every ray of light until it seemed like a permanent cloud of night collected in their bedroom. The bed was large, giant compared to most. The bedposts nearly reached the ceiling, the wood frame stronger than the usual to sustain sharp movements and a heavily muscled body that enjoyed using its entirety to splay his wife across. Black silk sheets that cooled their heated skin as they lay panting, glistening, thrumming from shared euphoric pleasure.

The only light in these moments came from the flickering fire on the far side of the room, lighting his and her features for eyes to take in familiar planes of faces and bodies. There were no sounds but the sparks of the fire, the sheer ecstasy of each of her whimpering moans, the growl at the back of his throat that made her bones quake, her thighs shake, her entire body jerk forward. The people no longer existed; the needy, the survivors, the expectant were put out of their minds. Their redemption was found here, where masks were no longer used, truth and honesty replacing the dark desire to be saviors; heroes. Here he marked her skin with his teeth; _mine_. She scored his back, his shoulders, his waist with her nails; _mine_. Their hands fell together, entwined, a bond that couldn't be overridden, undervalued, mistaken.

Tomorrow, when morning rose, the fire went out, they'd step out of their haven and back into the world. They'd place their masks back on their faces; the reporter wife of Bruce Wayne, out to save the world through Gotham Gazette by day, Watchtower of the Justice League by night. And Bruce Wayne, billionaire and owner of Wayne Enterprises by day, the Batman by night, ridding the injustices swarming Gotham streets. They would do their jobs, live their destinies, each waiting for the moment they could escape back to their room, to each other, to the maskless comfort of their lover's embrace.


	26. Definitions (NC-17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were an untouched subject that they chose not to talk about with each other or anyone else.

Nothing was happening. For once, there were no cells ringing every few minutes, there was no deadline to meet, the streets of Gotham were safe enough for now that he didn't have to don the suit and the League didn't currently need her help with anything. So here they were with a spare moment in a life full of constant action and they were bored silly.

"We could train," he suggested.

She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head side to side. "We could... go over paperwork?"

"Did mine."

She sighed. "Me too."

He leaned back in the comfort of his chair, brow lifted and lips pursed. She observed him for a moment; it was so rare these days that they were ever alone and free. It was constant, go, go, go and she'd gotten so used to it that downtime left them at a brick wall. What to do? Lois was on her honeymoon with Clark, Bart was visiting his girlfriend in Hawaii, Victor had been roped into AC's ‘save the starfish' rally and Oliver was unreachable (as was Dinah, obviously enough).

She blew out a frustrated breath. "Where's Alfred?"

"He had a date," Bruce grumbled, looking even more sullen.

She crossed her legs, shoulders falling. "I can't remember the last time I went out on a date."

He glanced over at her, eyes dark. "I took you to dinner last Friday."

"Yeah but that was... _us_." She lifted a shoulder. They had no definition; therefore dinner was not a date. They were friends and they worked together, spent most of their days and nights together and had enough sexual tension between them that strangers felt it almost immediately. But when introduced, it was never, "This is my friend, Chloe." It was always, "And this is Chloe... Brilliance to match her beauty," or some other flattering introduction that gave no name to what _they_ were. It was an untouched subject that they chose not to talk about with each other or anyone else, much to Alfred's constant disapproval.

"And _us_ having dinner isn't considered a date?" He leaned forward, arms on his knees.

She sighed. "We eat dinner often, Bruce. If you want to categorize every meal, we've been dating for six and a half years." Her brows lifted. "For such a long relationship, I'm getting the short stick in the intimacy area."

He scoffed. "Your signals are a little mixed, Chloe. I never know whether you're avoiding the idea of us or if you have no feelings for me."

She licked her lips. " _Why_ are we suddenly having this conversation?"

"Boredom," he replied with a shrug. "You don't think there's a reason my bachelordom has been over for six years? The only blonde on my arm these days is _you_."

She laughed, eyes widening. "Did you want me to apologize for that? Because personally I was getting tired of the airheads... The dollar signs in their eyes was enough to make me heave!"

"Six years and you still don't trust that I can be monogamous?" His voice was deepening, close to that growl now. "I haven't had sex since you stepped into my life and you _still_ refuse to believe we have something?"

"I never said that!" She shook her head. "We've just always been in that grey area and I thought that's where we should stay!"

She had no excuse, although the idea of being with Bruce was a constant thought in her head. It wasn't that she _didn't_ want to be with him, it was more that she wanted _so much_ to be with him. And that was something she hadn't felt since high school, with a certain alien farm boy. Only this was more explosive, this was feeling her entire body sizzle at just the sight of him, at rubbing her thighs together when he used his Batman growl, it was waking up in a tangle of sheets as erotic dreams of him plagued her sleep. She couldn't get him off her mind and she wanted him, needed him, but she _refused_ to become that high school girl who fawned all over him just to find he didn't want a real relationship or to find the fire went out just as quick as it flared.

He stood from the chair, walked toward her, his body entirely too fit for her not to stare. He slid gracefully to his knees in front of her, his hands gripping both of her legs and dragging her to the very end of her seat. Her skirt was pushed up, the juncture of her thighs pressed tight against his chest as her legs spread wide to accommodate his broad form. His hands slid up, wrapping around her hips and her body tingled, the warmth flaring across her skin. He stared up at her, eyes a dark blue that radiated words left unsaid for so long. She felt her breasts tighten beneath her blouse, her breath stutter at the sheer intimacy of it all.

"I want you," he growled. She felt her blouse being tugged out of her skirt and then he tore it apart, the buttons flying off. She shrugged her shoulders lightly, let the soft fabric be dragged down her arms and tossed away. His large hands fell to the straps of her bra, slid them down her arms and he leaned forward, pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder as he drew her bra down, her arms lifting instinctively to help him. She reached back, undid the clasp and then it fell to her lap before he threw it behind him. His mouth fell down her chest, nose grazing against her, his hair brushing the underside of her chin. Her arms shook, raising unsteadily to wrap around him. She felt his breath across her breasts, so close, but his mouth wouldn't touch them. "Tell me you want me too."

Her fingers tightened in his hair, but no words escaped her.

He leaned forward and she felt his chest press against her core, she felt her panties damped almost immediately, her clit throbbing intensely. His hands slid up her body, knuckles briefly brushing against her breasts, making her whimper with need. He trailed his tongue down between the valley of her breasts, teasingly. "Tell me."

"I... I want..."

He turned his head, his hot breath surrounding her nipple but she wanted his tongue, his teeth, his lips. "What do you want?" His growl made her entire body thrum with desire.

"I want you too," she moaned.

And finally, his mouth surrounded her taut breast, his hand sliding across the other, kneading it with affection while his free hand unbuttoned her skirt.

Her head lolled back, eyes staring out sightlessly.

An uneventful day just got all too booked. She knew what she'd be doing with any off days from now on. Boredom would never be a problem in future. She had Bruce Wayne to make sure of that. No complaints from her. Because _whatever_ they were, they just got ten times better.


	27. The Many Facets of Green (NC-17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hated it when she wore green.

He hated it when she wore green. It's not that it wasn't attractive on her; it was. It was downright sinful, just like every other color that graced her figure. But when he thought of green, he thought of Oliver, the man who had once meant everything to her. Bruce Wayne didn't do jealousy, green _didn't_ look good on him. But when it came to Chloe Sullivan, he had a hard time not despising the leader of the Justice League on principle alone. It was a long time ago and she was long past any romantic affection for her former boyfriend. The two were good friends still and in constant connection through the league, but Queen was engaged to Dinah Lance and happy in his relationship.

The problem now was pushing his own insecurities away. They'd been in this unusual relationship for longer than he could remember and here she stood, at his side in a green gown that to everybody else's eyes looked utterly jaw-dropping on her. She smiled and laughed, playing the good girlfriend and not asking the hard hitting questions to the many socialites around her. She held his arm loosely, easily able to slip away any time; she wasn't staking claim or forcing their relationship in anybody's face. The fact remained that the two of them were not exclusive, despite how many people thought them to be. It was just easier to say they were given how much time they spent together. She'd shown up as a Justice League recruiter, staying to keep contact between his stubborn attitude and her beloved League and so they worked together, in and out of public.

But along the way, they found a mutual attraction that flared in the bedroom in a blinding way. They agreed to keep it casual, however, not wanting any ties to heroes they knew likely had a short lifespan. But, despite his callous and outwardly stoic attitude, he had a heart beneath the Kevlar Batman suit and it had long ago turned its attention to the vibrant investigative reporter standing next to him. Her smile did him in, he believed. He blamed everything akin to affection on her dazzling grin that could make him melt into a pile of mush, much to his obvious chagrin. And she didn't seem to have any idea what she did to him; she had no understanding of just how much he cared for her. He told himself it was for her own good; that as long as she believed they were casual, she'd stay safe. Because loving him would only end badly for her; it had for most others who fell for his charm.

He was caught off guard, not that he showed it, when she suddenly turned in his arms, her curvy body pressing to his front. "What's going on in that head of yours?" she wondered, voice low and seductive as she stared up at him with eyes just as green as her dress. _Those_ he could like; those he loved staring into endlessly, those he caught each night as he covered her body in his large bed, her arms spread wide and her neck arched as she stared up at him intensely, whimpering and crying his name out as he filled her and her needs with a passion he reserved for her and saving the city of Gotham.

He placed a large hand on her waist, smirked as she bit her lip and tenderly brushed a tendril of hair from her face. "How much I'd like tear that dress off," he replied in a growl that rivaled Batman's.

Her lips curved. "I happen to like this dress, so no _tearing_ allowed."

He leaned into her, his mouth brushing her ear. "I make no promises, Sullivan."

Her hands slid beneath the cover of his jacket, finding the exact spot on his ribs that she knew was ticklish. " _Tear_ my dress, Wayne, and I'll be forced to show you just how _vengeful_ I can be."

"Does it involve your incredible flexibility skills?" he wondered, his tone teasing.

She laughed lightly, sliding her hand down until it brushed against the front of his pants. "You'll have to see for yourself. Later." She moved to step back but his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her in place. "We have guests to tend to," she reminded.

"There's plenty of champagne to do it for us," he assured, stepping backwards. He wanted that dress off of her as soon as possible, the only green he wanted to see was that of her eyes, staring up at him, pleading for more, for _him_ , and only him.

She grinned up at him. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden?" she wondered, leaning into him as he escorted her away from the guests and to the stairwell leading to the second floor hallway, their bedroom at the end.

He frowned, shaking his head before he scooped her up in the emptiness of the hallway, watching as she smiled in amusement, sitting comfortably in his arms, her dress tightening around her body further. She opened the door for them and he kicked it shut with his foot before walking her over to the bed and setting her on her feet. Without preamble, he slid the straps away and undid the zipper, breathing a sigh of relief as it fell to a pool of silk on the floor, with her stand in nothing but a sheer pair of black panties. "What? No foreplay?"

He smirked at her, lifting a brow before he leaned her back until she fell across the bed, legs lifted to push herself further across. He fell between her thighs, shrugging off his suit jacket as she pushed it from his shoulders. Her fingers were already on the buttons of his shirt, popping them open and pushing the crisp white fabric apart before running her palms up and down his chest, fingers tracing scars knowingly, her eyes staring into his, deep and intense.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" she wondered, breathless as his body pressed against hers, his mouth wandering over her upper chest, nose nuzzling her neck.

"This doesn't usually involve much talking," he replied, suckling her neck as his hands slid his pants away with ease.

She jerked as his freed length pressed against her through her quickly dampening panties. "Bruce," she said, half-whimper, half-questioning.

He caught her mouth, kissing her deeply, passionately, ignoring the need for air as their tongues tangled, lips swelling from the pressure and the grazing of teeth. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand falling down his back while the other buried in his hair. He slid a hand between them, ran his fingers up and down her slit through her panties, using the fabric as friction against her folds and clit. Their mouths parted and he buried his face against her neck, suckling her skin as she panted, gripping his hair. He stroked her harder through her panties as his mouth fell, lips surrounding a tight, rosy nipple.

"Oh," she moaned, arching up, her breathing become harsh. He wondered for a second if the dress had been from Oliver; if when she wore it, she remembered him, thought of him.

He slid her damp panties out of the way and his fingers slid inside, three filling and stretching her.

"Bruce!" she cried out, her legs parting further as his thumb rubbed back and forth along her clit.

He switched breasts, his free hand massaging the now ignored one as he suckled and nibbled the pale flesh of her mound.

Her head fell back and forth, her eyes closed tight. He broke away from her breast abruptly, crawled up her and without warning slid inside of her deeply. Her eyes opened wide then, her mouth falling open with a guttural moan. He caught her gaze and locked on. "Watch me," he told her, nearly an order if it wasn't for the need there. "Just... Just keep..." He let out a cracked sigh; she was so tight, so hot. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tight now, as if she was staking claim, though there was nobody there to see. She kept her eyes open, stared right into his, and there was the intense green he loved; the _only_ green he loved.

Her fingers dugs into his shoulder, her hips rocked against him in perfect synchronicity. With her gaze on him, the anger and fear slipped away; the need to mark her as his, to prove to himself that she was his alone and only thinking of him disappeared. His hands slid up and down her body, gentle and tender, though rough from callous', gripping and kneading her rather than searching only to make her moan his name. He wanted her to feel, he wanted her to enjoy his touch as much as he enjoyed hers. The possessiveness faded, becoming more loving passion than anything else.

And when she moaned his name, he believed he was the only one in her heart and on her mind. She rolled him onto his back with ease few women of her size could manage and sat perched in his lap, taking his hands in hers and holding them over her breasts, their fingers threading across the ample, pale flesh. Her hips rocked back and forth, side to side, creating intricate patterns as she rode him torturously slow. He wasn't used to handing over the reigns, but when it came to her, it was always give and take; the power equal between them in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever find. Sure he could turn them over easily, take the power from her without even trying, but he never wanted to. He liked it how it was, standing on equal ground, getting and giving as good as he gave and got.

She arched her back, leaning across him, her hands falling from his and pressing down into the bed on either side of him, holding herself up as she used the angle to their advantage. Her mouth was so close he could feel each breath she let out and he lifted his head to catch her lips, smooth and deep, drawing her tongue into a dance of erotic proportions. Her eyes stayed open, forced to against the passion that begged for him to close them, stayed on his dark gaze the whole time. She ran a hand across his cheek, fingers stroking his jaw tenderly as their mouths parted, panting.

"I love you," he gasped, surprised with himself.

She came around him as soon as the words exited his mouth, her clenching walls causing his own orgasm. His arms slid around her, hugging her to him as they both jerked and writhed, calling each other's names. His entire body lit up and he felt nothing but intense waves of pleasure that flowed through him so violently, he could barely breathe. She collapsed against him, her soft body immobile, her panting the only assurance that she hadn't passed out or died from ecstasy. He slowly opened his eyes, staring up at the dark ceiling. He could feel her fingers running up and down his biceps, tracing the shape of the sculpted muscle like she often did afterwards.

In the distance, he could vaguely hear the party still going full throttle downstairs but didn't bother considering getting dressed and returning, they wouldn't notice his absence. Gathering his strength, he slid them back on the bed and beneath the blankets. She didn't protest, simply curling into his embrace and resting her head on his chest. It'd been months since she'd spent a night in her room, back at her Metropolis centered apartment. He went to sleep with her in his arms each night and woke up the same way every morning and he wasn't regretting a second of it.

He ran his hand up and down her back, stroking the line of her spine as she relaxed into his embrace, getting closer and closer to sleep.

"Did you mean it?" she wondered, voice soft and insecure, unlike the women he knew so well.

He licked his lips. He shouldn't have said it; he'd just been thinking how it was better for her to keep thinking of it in a casual manner.

When he didn't reply she looked up at him, raising a brow that told him he _had_ to answer. He smiled; there was the feisty woman he fell in love with. He nodded, sighing lightly.

She stared at him, her green eyes searching for some sort of lie but found nothing. There was no lie to be found.

She shook her head, her brows furrowed. "How long?"

Since the beginning, he was sure. She stepped into his life like a whirlwind and he couldn't help but love every second of it. "Awhile," he answered instead.

She nodded. "Could've said something earlier," she told him, resting her head on his shoulder once more.

He cocked a brow. "You're annoyed it's taken this long? What happened to, ‘Let's keep this casual,'?"

She sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. "I think that went out the window around the time my apartment became obsolete."

He shrugged slightly, half-frowning. "There's plenty of room in the manor."

She lifted her head, staring at him wide-eyed. "Are you asking me to move in?"

His mouth quirked on one side. "I think you already have... Might as well bring the rest of your belongings."

"The League..." Her eyes fell.

"They don't have any control over who you and do not date." He reached up, pushing her now tangled hair behind her ear.

"And if it doesn't work out...?"

"I don't plan on it failing," he replied confidently.

She pursed her lips to hide a smile. "Nobody plans failure."

He smirked. "I'll have to marry you to prove you wrong, I think."

Her mouth dropped in amused surprised. "Moving rather quickly, don't you think?"

He snorted. "You've been mine for six years, Sullivan. If anything, I'm slow on the uptake."

She laughed, grinning widely; that same smile that broke through every wall he put up on day one. "I'll get back to you on the proposal, Wayne, but I think I can move in."

"I already know you're answer to the proposal." He licked his lips. "I like June for a wedding."

"Maybe I'd like a Winter wedding," she told him stubbornly.

"Then we'll have two." He shrugged.

She sighed, resting her head on him once more and tracing his chest with her fingertip. "Already planning two weddings and I haven't even told you I love you too."

He kissed her hair. "I already know you do."

"Do you?"

"I do now." He hugged her close.

She could wear all the green she wanted, he decided. He knew where they stood now and it was next to each other.


	28. Liquid Fire (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She moved like liquid fire...

She moved like liquid fire, her curves sliding beneath her satin dress, whisper soft and so thin he could make out the indent of her hips, the slope of her thighs. His throat went dry as he watched her, wanting her from afar. It was his alter-ego who’d managed to catch her attention, however. Batman was ever-present in the constant turmoil of Gotham and it seemed so was Chloe Sullivan.

Her head fell back, a laugh rich with warmth escaping her pink lips. She held on to the shoulder of Lieutenant Gordan, as if using him to keep herself upright as he managed to make her wipe tears of laughter from her eyes. Bruce’s grip tightened on his champagne stem. In all his years of parading as the Dark Knight, he’d put all his focus on the building of Gotham, but just once he wanted to take something for himself, to have her in all her beautiful and intoxicating glory.

Knocking back his drink, he managed to slip away undetected and was sweeping across Gotham in all of its dark glory with a vengeance. He needed to vent, to become that other part of himself for a moment. Bruce had something to live up to, a façade. He could only take, have and discard when he wore the billionaire mask. But the Batman was without boundaries, or so it would seem.

Hours later, he found her in a darkened alley; how cliché. She was no damsel in distress, however. Instead, she’d paused in her walk home, searching through her purse for something. She was still dressed in a gown of complete sin, black as the night itself and barely decent in his eyes.

He landed behind her silently, his eyes wandering from her feet to the top of her blonde coiffed head. She’d arrived months ago, full of eager enthusiasm to use the written word to turn Gotham on its head. He hadn’t had a shred of hope for her until she started at the top and began tearing all of the well hidden secrets of both high and low society apart with structured ease. She’d been on his mind since and on Batman’s radar from the very first mace incident with a disgruntled “fan.”

“You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” she called out, still immersed in the depths of her purse.

“You’re not as _safe_ as you think you,” he replied in a growl.

She turned her head over her shoulder, cocked a brow. “From them or you?”

Temptation dripped from her lips in a manner that had all rational thought escaping him. He had her pinned to the dirty brick wall in seconds, his cape still billowing out as their eyes caught. He expected shock, fear, anything but raw passion.

She reached up, her delicate forefinger tracing his lips before her thumb stroked his cowl-covered chin. “With all the attention you put on saving this city, I wonder if you have any to spare…”

He gripped her hips tight, pulled them in close until she was pressed tight enough to him that he could nearly feel those soft curves and firm breasts through his suit. Her hand fell, guiding his own beneath the slit of her dress, along her thigh to find her scarce of panties. His shoulders shook with the knowledge, a powerful desire to have her right there, right then, grabbed hold.

Her head fell back, her eyes searing into his. “I see you… Night after night, doing your best to rid this city of the scum that seems to multiply like bacteria…” Her lips curled wryly. “I see you watching me… When was the last time you saw me walk into a dark alley for something as pointless as looking through my purse?” She slung an arm around his neck, daring him closer. “You think I haven’t learned yet? You think I don’t know where you are, what you want...?”

He hadn’t realized she’d let go of his hand until he felt her other palm against the groin of his suit, sliding inside to flick a few things undone, releasing him from the confines. His fingers stroked along the top of her butt, thumb tracing her hipbone delicately.

She licked her lips, her green eyes darkening. “After everything you do for Gotham, what does it give you in return?” Her hand wrapped around his length, drawing him out into the cool air. “What do you _want_?”

With grit teeth, he growled and slammed his body against hers. His hand gripped her thigh, hiked her up until her legs wrapped around his waist. He tossed her dress to one side, exposing her to him and slid his gloved hand between to cup her, hard. She arched, her head falling back, her eyes drooping closed. His mouth attached to her throat, marking her, scoring her with his teeth as he suckled her alabaster skin between his lips.

He plunged two fingers inside her already wet heat, thumb flicking her clit until she moaned, pleaded and then he was thrusting up with purpose, tattooing himself deep inside her. His hands were bruising, holding everywhere. He pulled the straps of her dress out of the way with his teeth while she shrugged the entire upper half down to her waist. He took her breast into his mouth, tongue twisting her nipple as she writhed and moaned for him.

The pleasure of it all was blinding. He forgot about the city around him, the dirt riddling dark corners. All he had was soft legs around his waist, fingers digging into his neck and shoulders, bruised lips that met his just as fiercely and a willing body he’d been lusting after from a distance.

“More, please,” she begged, she whimpered.

She came twice, her body arching up toward him, thrusting her breasts into his mouth as she cried out. He continued to thrust into her, pumping his hips against her as she continued to fly and pull him in closer, deeper. One of her heels slipped off, crashed to the ground behind them. Rain began to drip from the sky, sluicing down her bare arms and forcing its way into his eyes. He couldn’t care less.

As she orgasmed again, tightening and spasming all around him, he finally hit the precipice and let go. While his entire body clenched tight, hers went soft in his arms. She stroked his back, massaged her lips against his as he fought to breathe, and murmured nonsensical things. But her voice, so soft and gentle, brought him back to earth with the promise of more, of the incredible that could be in the future.

He kissed the dark mark he’d left against her neck, light now, reminiscent, and let her down to her feet, holding her upright as she wobbled on her one heel. She braced herself with his shoulders, hooked her shoe back on and then looked up at him, less confidant and more dreamy eyed and languid now.

Reality set in quickly and the mask of stoicism returned. His shoulders went rigid while his expression darkened once more, even as he focused on fixing his suit to proper order.

She grinned knowingly. “Relax, I’m not asking for a ring and ceremony,” she told him lightly. Running a hand through her hair, she shrugged her dress back on and picked up the purse she’d dropped to the wet cement. “Sometimes… a couple of lonely hearts have something in common.” She winked, turning toward the street that led to her apartment. “I’ll see you around, Bruce.”

He watched her walk away, his expression wrought with confusion. He’d never done this before, never began what resembled a strictly sexual relationship with someone in his much darker, bitter persona. But there it was, there _she_ was, and he knew he’d be seeing more of her in the time to come. He couldn’t be upset about that. If nothing else, his lust for the affable reporter that seasoned his once nightmarish sleep was now a possibility.

It wasn’t until she was long gone that he realized she’d used his real name.


End file.
